Caged, a sequel to On the Edge of Wakefulness
by Cabbie Esq
Summary: Todd has been out of prison three years and Bo thinks he began a gang war by murdering an inmate. Bo and Tea want to learn the truth of Todd's life in prison, but it might destroy the Manning family. Alternative universe, gets kinda Todd-slashy, very adult. Complete, but to be continued in Caged: Retribution.
1. Prologue and Chapter 1

**Caged**

**Prologue**

_Welcome to Statesville Prison._

As he walked in an ambling line, one among ten new inmates at Statesville all decked out in blue cotton sweat pants, plain white tee-shirts, and shower sandals, Todd Manning recounted a few basic rules about prison that he knew cold. Some he learned the hard way his first time in for raping Marty Saybrooke, others he got from long-timers.

_Look tough even if you're not feeling it._

Knocking his head back, keeping his eyes forward and shoulders straight, he knew his black prison tats, countless scars, the unforgiving expression on his face, and his general unfriendliness, gave two important messages: one, he was someone you might not want to bother, and two, he'd been to Statesville before. His previous ride went a long way towards safety.

_If someone decides to test your tough look, teach them a lesson they'll not forget._

This didn't worry him too much – he meant what he said to Jedediah back in Fayetteville. He did have a mean right hook. He was also pretty damn good with the primo prison weapon: the shank. No question, he'd do damage to anyone who messed with him. And if he couldn't do enough to save his life, he'd die trying. Fighting was key, period. Men who thought they could avoid the fight and "nice" their way through prison learned that being nice only gets a person assaulted and made into someone's punk, i.e. a rape victim. Which leads to rule number three:

_Do not voluntarily become a punk._

Some men believe they can offer sexual favors for protection, and actually get it. This is patently false. Once an inmate gets a reputation as a punk, he will continue to be raped, passed around, beaten, and will ultimately lose every reason to live. If someone attempts to make you their punk, fight like hell no matter how pointless the effort might be. Again, fighting is key. Especially if the inmate has been marked as a rapist or person with other sexual convictions – they become walking targets for extreme violence, vengeance rape, and other abuses, death being a common end result. Unfortunately, this was a reality of prison culture that Todd learned the hard way. He fought bloody hard for the meager amount of respect he ended up with – he also learned that inmates marked as sexual predators tended to be left alone once they proved themselves unable to be bested. He knew that this second time around, he'd have a new reputation to build, a new standard to meet. Anything less would make him a constant challenge to the other inmates.

A few other basics:

_Do not take any favors. Do not acquire goods on credit. Keep physically and spiritually fit. Be polite and respectful to guards and other admin._

In a quiet room, alone with two male guards wielding small flashlights, Todd stripped naked for a visual strip search that all newcomers were given. He did as he was told, an unforgotten humiliating routine, opening his mouth, lifting his tongue. He rifled through his hair, let them peek up his nose. He showed off the backs and inside of his ears, and the soles of his feet. Without flinching or blinking, he lifted his penis and scrotum. He spread his fingers apart, lifted his arms in the air, turned and bent over to spread his ass cheeks. If the CO's believed an inmate was hiding something in his rectum, the inmate would have to squat and cough in the hopes the contraband would reveal itself.

Todd then stood tall and straight so they could check out the rest of his body for suspicious markings that might indicate still-hidden contraband. Strange how it had been a few years since he endured a strip search, and yet he did it with familiarity and disassociation. He wasn't there in that room – he was someplace he wanted to be.

After his clothes were carefully inspected, he dressed, and while the officers quickly wrote up an intake report, he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He bent his head, his hair falling about his face, and bit his lip hard to stop himself from weeping like a child. It would be the only expression of his true self for a long while.

The older guard looked at Todd before letting him out the door, flashing a sad face, "Welcome back, Manning. Stay safe."

"Yeah."

Once the individual searches were done, the line of men marched to the commissary, and each got handed a bag of necessaries, a sack lunch, two changes of clothes, bed linens, and slip-on canvas sneakers for the yard. They were permitted a one-time deal where they could purchase $25 worth of goods on the People's dime. Todd chose a writing pad, envelopes, prison pens, and a couple of packs of Camels. He also got trail mix, thinking of the mountains and the long walk into West Virginia's wilderness with Tea and Jed.

_Mind your own business, and don't share yours._

The inmates didn't talk to one another. Todd avoided their gazes and didn't check them out. Peripherally, he noted the varying races, ages, and levels of fear in the men. He calculated when he'd be able to use the phone to call his lawyer, George Strauss. Figured out what he needed him to do, wrote in his head the first lines in a first letter to Tea Delgado, and wondered what time it was. He briefly closed his eyes and breathed. He could not think of the outside world and blanketed his mind with vaguely detailed plans of the next few hours. He wished he could sleep. The rules kept him awake.

_Don't talk to people of other races before you talk to the leaders of your own._

Statesville was like any other American prison, mainly divided along racial lines. Each racial demographic was then divided into various gangs who fought each other and competed for jobs, trades, and other violence-tinged activities. Now, one could avoid getting into a gang, but it took a bit of finesse and politicking which wasn't easy. Todd had rudimentary information that would help him stay out of the fray for a while - he had a starting point. However, he had yet to work out how to convey this information and when to do it. The problem with using information against bad guys is that sometimes the bad guys kill their blackmailers. Definitely a sticking point. The plan would come to him.

The last rule he also learned the hard way:

_Don't reveal your weaknesses._

Weaknesses are anything someone might try to take advantage of, such as things you covet, things that might get you in trouble, or whatever makes you happy or sad, or angry. If you show how you feel, someone will use it against you. With that in mind, Todd learned to cover up his emotions, all of them. The past two years had been truly indulgent - he had given in to every bit of inner struggle, insanity, and raw emotion. He had cried openly thanks to the drugs, and expressed every ounce of rage that burned through to his core. He laughed and loved and...at the last minute got back his family. And for the sanctity of the family...he ended here, a plea, three to five for the murder of Phillip Manning, an federal agent, and a slew of other crimes.

_Redemption, bitches, redemption._

As he stood in line, waiting to meet his cell mate, everything inside of him began to shut down like a series of slamming doors, a rhythmic run of fingertips along piano keys, down, down, down. Down into dead silence.

In an effort to further shield his weaknesses, he would cut off addresses and phone numbers from letters or other papers, and cover up the phone pad on the pay phone as he dialed numbers. Inmates had a way of getting to people you loved, and those people were your greatest weaknesses. He would converse without revealing anything about himself, no names, no loves, no enemies. Not his favorite TV shows or movies or foods, not his predisposition to always smell a rose when confronted with one, not the thrill he felt when he drove off the lot with a new car. Nothing.

Indeed, if he thought about it, men had so many weaknesses. Covering them up was a full time job in prison. His biggest weaknesses would aways be his children and wife.

He'd left Tea at the doors of the Llantano's county jail where he'd be booked and then transported to Statesville first thing in the morning. With Bo looking on, he kissed her on the lips and looked her in the eyes with furrowed brows. They studied one another. She smiled and fought tears. He touched the side of her face, memorizing her.

"I'll write to you," he said. "Every day, every chance I get. Jed, too. And Starr."

"I'll come visit you tomorrow-"

"No, no you won't."

"Sure, you need some time...I'll be here on the weekend-"

"No, not the weekend, not the following weekend...not in a month, not in two, not in a year..."

"Todd...what are you doing? What are you talking about?"

"Don't ever come, don't ever bring that baby...stay home until I come to you."

"You're crazy...Todd, come on, be serious..."

He swallowed hard, and smiled wistfully, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, avoiding her on-the-verge-of-hysteria gaze. His voice was barely above a whisper. "If I see you, I won't make it. I won't survive this."

Tea put her hand to her mouth, "Please...this is bad enough...that you didn't listen to me, that you chose this...THIS."

"I'll want to come home if I see you or Jedediah or Starr - I won't be able to hide my wanting to get out, my...wanting to be with you. I will not make it, Delgado, if I see you. You have to understand, I need you to understand."

Bo reluctantly interrupted, "I'm sorry, Manning, we gotta go."

"No, no, no...," Tea whimpered, "Todd...god damn you..."

He kissed her again, and tore himself away from her. Walked away from his beautiful, fuming, disbelieving woman, "TODD MANNING! GOD DAMN YOU!"

He did not look back and bit down on his teeth, feeling like he could break his teeth. Every fucking one. His wrists were cuffed, but he held his head high, threw shoulders back, and bore his broken heart stoically. He knew how hurt she was, she and that baby in her belly. Instincts screamed in his head. They'd been through so much together, and apart, and he wanted to comfort her, protect her. He thought he was doing just that. It had been a destined decision. But now...as he heard her helplessly saying his name...when she finally stopped...he wasn't so sure about his decision.

"I love you, Delgado," he said right before he went inside, hearing her say similar words right back. She said them coolly, simply. Jedediah, his son, would not have to testify against him and THAT was everything. That was why this was all happening.

In the morning heat, the next day after a night in county jail, as he drove in a sparsely-populated bus across the miles to Pennsylvania's central state prison, he felt comforted by his decision. The droning sound of the engine, the hot breeze coming through the dropped windows, the sound of a just-turned-18 kid in the back row sniffling, all reminded him of the hope he handed his son. The cops would be off Jed's back for everything he'd done in the past. The boy's future now lay in his own hands. He could either stay on the straight and narrow, or pay the consequences for bad choices. Jed was on his own, free of Todd, with a little help from Tea Delgado Manning. The boy at one time had tried everything to save his bio-father from himself. This was the least Todd could do. Save the kid…from himself.

He had no idea that he'd end up serving the full five years of his prison sentence.

He had no idea that redemption would end up costing so much more than he dreamed.

**CAGED** **Chapter 1**

Bo Buchanan, with a grunt and then a heavy sigh, got down on his haunches and lifted the yellow tarp off the face of an Angel Square gang's latest victim, Serena Franco. Her brown eyes were still open, her mouth posed in a permanent circle of shock. A necklace caught the sun's light, a butterfly in mid-flight. No more flying for this one. He replaced the cover and squinted in the afternoon light, "She _in_ Los Serranos?"

"No, sir. Caught in the crossfire." The young cop watched the lurkers in the crowd of Angel Square, floating faces, crying mothers. "This is the third killing related to the Serrano gang in two weeks, but the first crossfire. She's an innocent."

Getting up, feeling his aging knees, Bo rubbed his hair back, what little there was of it. This had been some rough winter weeks. Los Serranos wasn't the only gang to have lost people; the Irish gang known as the Dirty Riders also lost people and now Bo was thinking they had a full scale gang war. Retribution was a hard cycle to interrupt. Took lots of political manpower, church involvement, school programs, and cops. Lots of cops.

"God damn...," he growled. The coroner wrapped up the little butterfly and shoved her into the bus, the mother screaming in the background. God damn.

Across the street, Tea Delgado Manning, stopped her walk to Carlotta's place to eye the wreckage. She waved to Bo and continued her quick pace. Shaking her head. Putting her hand on her chest. Certainly trying to ignore the grief of the butterfly's mother. Bo watched her graceful exit, her brown hair neatly trussed in a fine twist, her white wool coat cinched at her waist, and the expensive black pant suit flowing out from beneath the coat's skirt. That Delgado, she knew how to show off her lawyer-self. Her purse swung as she walked, the expensive briefcase banging against that leather.

How the hell she ever married, and stayed married, to Todd Manning remained a mystery to Bo. Cat with nine lives, he always said about that guy. Cat with _ten _lives. Should be dead now but isn't. The two had kids...two of 'em. Reese and Lucia. Bright eyes, Bo called them. Both had Todd's hazel eyes, both had his intense gaze. But thankfully, those two angels had Tea's spirit and lightness. Thanks to an easy life, they were spared Todd's heavy heart and his dark views of the world. That miracle was all Tea. Starr on the other hand did not escape his dark heart and neither did the older kid, Jedediah. Long stories, really.

"Commissioner?"

"Yeah..."

"I been doing some digging on this."

"Spill it."

The young cop, Henry Jones, had his sights set on detective. He hoped this case would help get him there. "Traced these Serrano killings back a couple of years. Things were quiet, relatively uneventful before this first death."

"Two years ago?"

"More like three."

The two started walking toward the city center. Bo didn't drive to these nearby locations. He walked. He liked the citizens to see him out there, with his gun holstered, and his entourage watchful. Made the people feel like they were important enough to talk to, to see. Bo eyed the folks he passed, smiled, nodded his head, asked about moms and dads and kids.

"Tell me about the first," he said.

"Jessie Horenda, small time con. Was doing a nickel in Statesville for felony arson and robbery."

"Killed in prison?"

"Oh yeah. Ugly."

"How ugly?"

"His...umm...his penis was cut off and shoved into his mouth. A baton was up his...well. He was stabbed a dozen times in the chest and the word, 'bitch' was carved onto his forehead."

Bo stopped walking, aghast, really. "Jesus. That was personal. Why are you calling that a gang killing?"

"See...Horenda wasn't a nice guy, but he was a Serrano pet. Favorite godson of a Serrano founding father."

"So Serranos took action...?"

"Sure. The timing was right - exact, actually. A week later, the Irish started losing people. All Serrano style...machetes and Japanese guns. And all outside Statesville. We're talking heavy hitters getting taken out."

"Mmm..." Bo looked dubious, but took a moment to shake the hand of a passing store owner.

Henry pushed his theory, "First guy down was the son of an Irish founder. It's an obvious tit for tat. Obviously Serranos knew it was the Irish. And they wanted to hit back hard for Horenda. The back and forth has been pretty steady, but recently, it's blown up and as you see...we now have the innocents getting gunned down."

The walk started again, Bo hemming and hawing. He paused and turned to Henry. "So you like the Irish as having killed Horenda? But no real evidence to tie it to them. Not enough for us...but enough for Los Serranos."

"That's what the conclusion is."

"Why do you think it's the Irish? Why do you think the _Serranos_ thought it was them?"

"Prison schedules. Horenda was murdered in the laundry. On his way back from a shift. Back hallway. Plus the baton...that's been done by the Irish in and out of Statesville."

"During the Irish's shift on laundry."

"Nobody else really had access at that time. Well, other than a loner - total outsider to the whole thing.."

Rubbing his lips with his fingers, his thinking action, Bo shook his head. "I can see what you're saying...but damn that killing was personal. What did the Irish have on that guy? Who the hell did he step on?"

"Motive's weak. Horenda trying to horn in on the prison drug trade. Heroin. Small potatoes really."

"Yeah, not with his dick in his mouth. Something else altogether." Bo paused...his face tight with concentration, curiosity, "So who's the loner who had access to the back hallway?"

Henry waved his hand like he was swatting away a fly, the loner so off his radar, so off the books as to mean...nothing. "Oh, solid alibi...no contacts with Horenda or Irish...nothing. Umm...that newspaper guy who plead out? Todd Manning. Totally clean-"

Stopping dead in his tracks, Bo snorted a short, harsh laugh, shaking his head, "Manning? _Manning _had access to that back hallway?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Manning, a _heroin_ addict with...a history of violent sexual crimes?" He pointed his finger at Henry, so taken back that he actually poked the cop's chest. "Know this, Mr. Jones...Todd Manning is NEVER clean. How the hell did he get out of interrogation on that one?"

The young cop's mouth parted, a little stumped. "Alibi. Solid...no reason to pull him in."

"I was in on every god damn Manning interrogation, every god damn Manning statement during his time in prison. How the hell did I miss THAT? Something's not right. Not right at all. Hooohoo...no, sirree. God damn!"

The police station loomed ahead and Henry opened the door for Bo as the man strode in hard and fast, in charge of Llanview's cop world and on a mission now. God how he loved this place.

Yes, Butterfly, we'll get to the bottom of this.

When Tea swung open the door to Carlotta's diner, she smiled at the sight of her husband, Todd Manning, sucking on a straw burrowed into the brown of a chocolate shake. He raised humored eyes to meet hers and reached for seven year old Lucia's hand to wave it. He was leaning down slightly, his longish hair, streaked white now against the chestnut, falling on the shoulder of his younger daughter. Brown-haired Lucia smiled, then snarled at her father and pushed him away, decrying his continued babying of her. She was seven, just turned, nowhere near a baby. Reese was a mere two, still very much a baby. Had a shock of golden hair, sticking straight up. He smartly uncapped his plastic cup and poured the milkshake on the tray of his high chair and called for Tea, one chocolate-covered finger pointing in the air. The three were a team and couldn't wait to share an early sweet dinner with the mother of their world.

As Tea walked across the floor to the corner table, she watched Todd smile slyly, knowing what was probably on his mind. He'd been pawing at her in the early morning but a court date prevented Tea from feeding his endless hunger. She'd left him in agony, his naked self beneath their sheets, rattling off what he planned for her when she was done with her day. Throughout all their hard work to get to this peaceful, blissful existence following his release from prison, through all their ups and downs, the one thing that remained steady, passionate...crazily so...was their sex life.

Tea blushed inside, the heat from him instant, and she chuckled knowingly.

His long legs stretched into the aisle, expensive Italian shoes glistening brown, beneath black jeans and luxurious knit plum shirt, with burnished metallic buttons down the front. All purposely casual. All top of the line, New York City chic. The slowly deepening scar cutting across his right cheek, though, clashed with his love of fine clothes. As did his tattoos, the slight limp from a knife fight gone awry, and the letters L O V E that he'd carved into the knuckles of his left hand. He was forever a clash of moral direction.

After kissing the kids on their ice-creamed lips, with Todd sending Lucia across the booth to the other side, Tea slipped onto the seat next to her beloved. She asked, "Out of the office early I see?"

"We missed you, beautiful woman."

When Todd planted a kiss on her lipstick lips, the goatee he sported scraping Tea's skin, he groaned a little and pressed his hand on her stomach, pulling her to him. She laughed, throwing her head back, and glanced at the menu. The kids chattered and she answered their many probing questions about her day, about all the people she saw.

A normal, family picture, with people who were anything but normal.

What Tea never failed to notice when in public with Todd, especially in Angel Square, were the glances by some of the men nearby. There was always at least one in the crowd. One ex-con recognizing another. A nod of the head, a cool eye-sweep up and down. Suspicion. Fear. A dare. Todd had been out of Statesville for nearly three years, and yet he still wore the sheen of a man inside. A man who made something of himself inside the hard walls of a high-security prison. A man who walked out of one of toughest prisons in Pennsylvania on top of the food chain rather than at the bottom.

Not an easy trick for a serial rapist who was a hard-core heroin addict, and a snitch with a penchant for torture.

Reality was, Todd had yet to shed the _redemption_ he so achingly sought and worked for. Yes, he had walked a long road out of hell, along an edge of wakefulness, smack into the paradise of family life and love. Yes, yes, he was awake, wide awake...alive and kicking...

But nothing comes for free, as they say. Tea always knew his prison life, the life he kept closed off from her...might very well come back to haunt them. She had really hoped it would be later...rather than sooner. She really wished he'd tell her about his time inside...so she could prepare for all eventualities. All she had was anecdote from a couple of clients...undocumented fantasy. All she had was advice from Tim Graham, Todd's doctor, that sometimes, a door is better left shut than opened.

"How are you, _abogada_?" Todd breathed in the scent of her perfume.

"I'm great, newspaper man. How are you?" 

"Never been better." He smiled so sweetly, his eyes so shined with adoration and openness, that Tea touched his cheek and took in a sharp breath of awe. She remembered other times, other places...dark, dark...blood running down his body, death enveloping him...a woman draping her used, ragged body over his...

_What you want, baby?_

"My god," she whispered. "Look at you."

"What," he said, his tone deep and anticipatory.

"You're the beautiful one."

"And you're nuts."

She laughed and buried her head into his neck, kissing his warm skin, kissing the black-lined snake that curled up there. Safe here, protected here. Paradise.

But then she heard Todd curse under his breath, stiffen. She eyed the doors of the diner, and through the window saw the shields. Like precognition, Tea knew that Statesville had come a'calling.

_No, no, not now...not yet..._

Within seconds, Bo Buchanan and a few cops smashed open the door of the diner and stalked right up to the family-loving, milkshake swilling, baby-waving, death-defying, Dark Prince himself...Todd Manning.

"You got some splainin' to do, inmate number 6203820," Bo twanged, a little too loudly, a little too showy. "We got a string of dead gang members and I think you know a hell of lot more about that than you've ever told us. _Than you ever told ME._"

Like a punctuation, as if on cue in a movie, Reese screamed a scream that seemed to run through the bones of Todd and Tea, that chilled the two to the core.

Yes, Statesville had most certainly come a'calling.

_**To be continued...**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Caged** **Chapter 2**

Rule on the bunk beds: whoever is bigger, tougher, or has seniority, gets to choose. Bottom bunk has higher status.

_After getting his stuff from the commissary, Todd followed a guard to his cell. He walked into the double occupation room with the heavy looking bars and was slightly relieved that his cell mate was White because if he wasn't, the politicking would be tricky. On the other hand, the guy was huge and looked to be a White Supremacist. Swastika tats were kind of a giveaway. Todd, standing there with his shit in his arms, glanced at the bunks and couldn't tell which one was free. This guy had spread out. Damn._

_Scowling, looking as tough as he could muster, Todd said, "Which one is mine?"_

_The guy stopped playing cards on the bottom bunk and looked Todd up and down. Flashed a shit-eating grin. "None a dem. Ya gots da floors."_

_Great, his cellie was huge, and a moron with a speech impediment. The guy laughed and scratched his crotch, mimicking some sort of masturbation. Kept laughing and eying Todd up and down. Todd glanced around and saw across the hall that a bunch of inmates were watching. This was a fucking test. He sighed and rocked his head from side to side, making cracking sounds, really bummed that his first fight was going to be on day one. Damn. He hadn't even been here for three hours._

"_My choice, then." Since Moron was on the bottom bunk, the top one was free. He'd acknowledge seniority that way. Todd walked to the bunk and put his shit near the pillow. And then he proceeded to wipe off all the crap to the floor, clothes, shoes, food, papers, all raining down past the Moron. The gauntlet was thrown. Todd put his foot on the bottom bunk to get up on the bunk, knowing what would happen. _

_Sure as shit Moron grabbed his foot and yanked. Like a whistle had been blown, inmates up and down the block stepped out of their cells to see where the new guy was going to land. When Todd hit the ground, he kicked out Moron's knee, making the asshole fall. Todd crabbed his way backwards to get some room, hoping to get to his feet but Moron was too big and jumped on top of him, the guy's chest smack on Todd's face, in an effort to suffocate him. _

_Men were yelling, whoooping, calling Moron's name which sounded something like...well...Moron. Todd knew that 300 pounds of flab was probably going to kill him so he did the only thing possible. He turned his head, managed to open his mouth, and bit down, solid._

_Bit until he felt Moron pulling away and screaming like a bitch, kept biting until Moron's nipple and a good chunk of his breast came off in his mouth. _

_Moron jumped back, screaming bloody murder, major blood leaking out all down Moron's chest. Todd spit the nipple, the blubber, and the blood in his mouth, at Moron's feet, praying like god damn hell the guy didn't have AIDS. Then he cleared out the bottom bunk and grabbed his stuff off the top. By the time the COs got there, Moron had passed out outside the cell like a beached whale and Todd was kicking back on the bottom bunk. _

_Now people knew where the new guy landed. _

When Bo burst into Carlotta's diner and called out Todd Manning, the noise of the restaurant hushed to only the delicate clinking of forks, a subtle whispered gossip, and the never-failing questions of children. Tea had jumped to her feet and yanked the screaming Reese out of the high chair, while Todd casually continued to sip the milkshake until he slurped it gone. Only Tea noticed something different in him, in the tell-tale twitch of his lip.

"Shhhh..." Tea soothed the boy, "It's okay..." She rocked him and he silenced, his head on her shoulder. He watched his father over her shoulder. Todd smiled and winked at him before eyeing Bo, before wiping his mouth carefully with a napkin and laying it back on the table.

"We can do this easy, or hard, Manning. Your choice."

The place remained quiet for another minute, but when Todd stood to his full height and glanced around the room, his face set in a hard scowl, the noise resumed and everyone returned to their early dinners.

Leaning close to Bo, Todd hissed, "Really, Buchanan, in front of my kids? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Didn't feel like playing with your lawyer today, Manning. I knew this would get your attention."

"You're a real bastard."

Bo chuckled at his entourage of officers, "Thank you, Mr. Kettle."

Todd smiled darkly. "Well, _I _don't feel like playing with _you_. Now,if you'll excuse me, I have a family to feed. My attorney will call you tomorrow." He turned to return to his seat, but one of the cops put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"You gotta come, sir."

Reese was now settled next to Lucia who was staring at the police with her big eyes, and that judgmental Manning gaze.

Tea turned her attention to Bo. "What's going on? What are you doing? Call George Strauss. You know the number. Todd will be happy...HAPPY...to have a chat. Privately!" She flashed a glance at Todd, her face a mask of perplexity.

"Look," Bo shot back, "the kid murdered in the street today, just two hours ago, was a seventeen year old girl caught in gang crossfire. I need to talk to your husband. And I need to talk to him NOW. And I don't have time for his lawyering bullshit that he always pulls."

"You need probable cause to talk to him like this, to take him into custody," Tea growled, "And he's been out of the Statesville game a damn long time."

"Not long enough, Tea." Bo's voice was thick with knowledge that made Tea uncomfortable, scared, but she hid it, hid behind her state bar license.

"What probable cause then? Tell me, what probable cause?"

Todd put his hand on her shoulder, laying his hand on her, too hard. Tea eyed him, saw that twitch again. She could feel a vibration in his body...kicked up her level of discomfort. Yes, see...that twitch was rage. The hum was rage simmering, building.

"What? What is it?" she asked him. "He can't take you into custody without probable cause...".

"No," he said, "It's not custody. Just a chat, and you're not my lawyer. I'll go with him. Take care of the kids, and I'll see you at home. An hour. The..._commissioner's_ just covering his bases." His voice was even, cold. Tea knew this voice...this was the inmate talking. Revealing nothing, no weaknesses, being respectful to the guards. There was only that damn twitch. Inside he was raging...he only needed to be put on the defensive. Then the fight would come and he'd fight for his life. To the death...

This much he'd shared with her. This much she knew. Tea was afraid he was heading towards his defenses. "Todd...stop...what's going on?"

He usually played these little games with Bo, he usually called George. In three years since his release, he did not rage at Bo nor did he just go along the program. No matter that the kids were here, even more so. This is how she knew that whatever was happening was for real, and somehow he knew it. What had he done?

"It's okay, Delgado." He tried to smile, but nothing happened. He grit his teeth instead.

She nodded."Then I'll call George - he'll be right there. Don't say a thing, Todd. You don't have to say _anything_ to them. Do you hear me?"

She said those things, even though she'd quit being his lawyer long ago. It was part of her problem. She had the power to protect him, and that very power had always kept her entrenched in his sickness, in his addictions, in the shadowy wood in which he lived. When she stopped trying to protect him, when he pulled away into letters and behind prison bars, she regained her sense of self, becoming a mother, and a real lawyer to real clients. She reached to touch him, to feel if the hum stopped, but he slipped away from her.

Lucia called out, scared at the sight of Todd taking a step towards the men with guns. "Daddy! Are they arresting you!"

Tea was about to say no, to assure her, but Todd got there first, smiling at his baby girl, using a Puerto Rican term of affection that never failed to touch Tea deeply.

"No, _mami_," he said, leaning down to her, his finger under her chin, "They just want to talk to me about something in the newspaper. That's all." He whispered, "That big man is just a clown. You've seen him lots of times, with your Aunt Viki." Lucia laughed with recognition and wrapped her arms around her father, holding him tightly, "I love you, Papi. Kiss me when you come home."

No weaknesses.

He squeezed his eyes shut, an action Tea could see, a sudden flash of Starr at the same age in her head, when Todd left her at Dorian's house to get back to Brandy, to get back to heroin. He stood back up and turned, his expression changed. The rage obviously closer to the surface. Where was the heroin now?

Hissing again, Todd made his way towards the doors, the men at his side. "You better have something for fuckin' real, Buchanan."

"Oh I do, Manning. I do."

They let him cool his heels there, in the chilled room with a metal table in the center. There was a steel bar running across the table in the middle, where handcuffs would go. Todd felt the edges, running his fingers on the coolness from one end to the other, circling the screws and the bolts. He felt the slickness and thought of a coroner's table. Thought of people laid out on them, cut open. He knew some of those people.

He loved some of those people.

Rocking back on the hard metal chair, he counted the ceiling tiles and focused on each breath, in and out, in and out. No water, no cigarettes, nothing on the walls except a two-way mirror. Camera in the corner, its red light steadily aimed in his direction. He was calm, knowing the five minutes had stretched into thirty, knowing they were waiting for him to throw a tantrum over being pulled away from his family only to sit here in this room, in dead silence. He didn't want to give it to them, but could feel its sharpness, could feel that tantrum coursing through his veins and splashing up against the base of spine.

Because he knew, knew this was real, knew this was problematic.

Instead of giving in, he stared at the mirror as he rocked in a slow, rhythmic beat. Back and forth, back and forth. Letting the minutes click by. Time had changed for him since Statesville. Boredom was part of solitary confinement. And solitary was a familiar state of being. Hours in the darkness with nothing to do, nothing to read, nothing to drink or eat until they gave it to you. A man goes crazy that way, but see...Todd was already crazy...and he fought it now. It was here, gurgling inside.

_Breathe...breathe...for the love of all that's holy, please keep the crazy at bay..._

The hour stretched into two.

He closed his eyes finally and hooked a foot around the leg of the table, keeping him perfectly balanced on the back legs of the chair. Let himself drift in the comfort of total peace, total silence, time meaning nothing...

But see, inmates never really sleep.

The next thing Henry Jones knew was that he was being slammed onto his back, his head cracking against the linoleum, and that Todd was on top of him. The ex-con's arm lay across the cop's throat, a knee jammed in his groin, and the cop's gun...in Todd's hand. The gun was in the air, aimed at the mirror. Jones was out of breath and completely incapacitated, totally unable to move. Every direction was blocked, not to mention the wind being knocked out of him, and a near-fucking-concussion.

Jones had seemingly made a bad choice in approach. The man on top, staring down at Jones...was god damn werewolf. Wild hair, wild eyes, that jagged scar...and those sharp teeth...and Jesus...Jones tried to escape it, there was something else...

"No more cop-world for you, eh?" Todd snarled, his breath hot on the cop's face, "It would be so easy to kill you right now."

"Manning, put the god damn gun down! Come on!"

Across the floor, and through the legs of the table, Todd eyed the two cops with their own weapons aimed at him and a red-faced Bo Buchanan behind them. Growling like pit bull, he gently lay the piece on the floor. He really had no chance. Once having peeled himself off Jones, two cops rewarded him by laying him out hard onto his chest on the floor, their boots in his back, his arms stretched behind him. He grunted at the pain of being held down and handcuffed. They seemed to take a certain pleasure in making it painful. He yelled like a madman, completely, utterly, having had the tantrum shaken out of him.

"You weren't accused of any crimes before," Bo said, "and now you are actually guilty of two crimes in a matter of thirty seconds. Assault on an officer and dispossession of his weapon. Seriously, Manning, what the hell are YOU thinking?"

"He woke me up." Spoken through gritted teeth. "He WOKE ME UP!"

The officers dragged the panting Todd to his feet and re-cuffed him to the bar on the table. He just knew he'd get familiar with it. He yanked on it with his whole body, yelling out blackly, still under the influence of his being..._surprised_. Fell back onto the metal chair.

Henry had opened the door, having waited Todd out, to surprise him, unnerve him. It didn't play out like he'd imagined. Hurt a hell of lot more. He'd never been taken out like that, not even at the Academy. Embarrassed, feeling the detective shield slide far out of his reach, he picked up his gun and sighed heavily. Bo looked hard at Todd, then at Henry catching his breath and rubbing the back of his head, while the other cops laughed quietly as they left.

Bo dragged a chair that had been outside the room, inside. Turned it around and sat backwards on it. Faced Todd.

"You're flustered."

"Fuck you. You took me from my family...for NO FUCKING REASON! Fuck you and fuck this place! AAAAAHHHH! You fucking set me up!" Todd knew he'd lost his cool. He'd slipped into the mindset of an inmate, and inmates are never caught off guard, especially not Todd. But this...this...response, he'd learned even earlier than prison. His abusive father also...never caught him off guard. Even in the dead of night, even when he was powerless. Todd always knew what was coming.

And that was the thing: he was someone else right now and he couldn't stop the emotional coup. He whimpered at the sheer out-of-control-ness racing through him. He hunched in his seat, shaking with the sudden rage. It was like a drug. God...it was like being high. His eyes bounced from a recovering Jones to Bo to the table to the cuffs and down, down... He yanked again and again on the cuffs...unable to slow his breathing.

Bo felt bad for his old nemesis. He had a kind of restrained respect for Todd and knew that he'd been pushed into this mental space. And of course, Bo owned up to the pushing.

"Get him some god damn water."

"Tell me...what the fuck...I am doing here."

"Okay, let me lay it out for you. A girl was killed today by the Irish gang known as the Dirty Riders of the Fourth Quadrant. The gunmen were aiming for members of the Los Serranos gang and this poor girl was caught in the middle. Now..."

A rush of adrenaline slammed through Todd and he jerked the cuffs hard, "I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THAT!"

"Hear me out. Drink the water and breathe. Give it to him, Henry."

The cop looked at Bo, and looked at the glass, and looked at Todd shaking with fury, his teeth bared and panting.

"Go ahead, Henry, he won't bite. Will you, Manning."

Because Todd's hands were cuffed, Todd couldn't drink the water himself. He forced himself to slow his breathing, trying to take those breaths. He shook his head a little. Just barely promising not to bite.

"See? Go ahead, Henry."

Moving closer, one hand on his gun, the cop put the glass to Todd's lips. Todd bit down on the glass and stared the cop down. He then let Henry tip the glass and he drunk it. Finished it. Nodded a little thank you. Humanity coming back...a little.

"Better," Bo said. "Now. Back to my story. So...little girl, dead in the street, was the third killing in two weeks. But before that...it's been a back and forth between the Irish and Los Serranos for the past three years."

"Short...on...patience..."

"Yes, yes, I know. So we've traced this back and forth to a zero victim. Because before that zero victim, the Irish and Los Serranos were actually...peaceful. There is no history, prior to zero victim, of the Irish ever killing off a Serrano and vice versa. Henry...tell him about the zero victim."

Henry nodded, "Name was Jessie Horenda."

Unwittingly, Todd blinked hard and looked to the side. Because he was out of control. He'd slipped.

Bo had caught that. "You know him."

"No."

"Henry, describe the body please."

"He was found in the back hallway, by the laundry at Statesville. His penis was cut off, and he was sodomized with a baton-like weapon that had been fashioned out of a table leg from the laundry. The man...had been stabbed a dozen times in the chest with a shank. Oh, the penis was stuck into his mouth."

Todd laughed shortly. More like a snort. "Ouch."

Bo looked at him. "Where's the humanity, Todd? I thought you changed. Henry...continue."

"Carved into his forehead was the word, 'bitch.'"

Grabbing Todd's left hand, Bo forced it so the knuckles were showing the word LOVE carved into his skin. "Interesting similarity." Bo eyed the camera, "Let the record show that Manning has cuttings on his left hand knuckles that were not there when he entered Statesville. Let the record show that they are strikingly similar to Horenda's cuts."

Growling, yanking his hand away from Bo, Todd spit at the commissioner's face, slime hitting him square on. "Fuck you."

"Holy shit, another count of assault on a police officer." He wiped the spit off with his handkerchief. Folded the handkerchief and tossed it into the trash. "_Two_ counts of assault, and a dispossession charge."

Bo crossed his arms and leaned forward, "You do the carving on Horenda, Todd? Huh? Cuz... the letters look the same to me. Same style...same cutting."

"I didn't _kill _Horenda!" The panting started again and he yanked on those cuffs. Knocked his head back and closed his eyes, trying so desperately to regain his calm. He almost wanted to cry, if he still could. It had been so long since he lost it like this and he had no idea why. No, no...he knew exactly why. Because he'd been cornered and trapped.

_Shhhhh...I promise. I fucking...promise, on my life, I will take care of it._

He whispered because if he spoke it would be a scream from the depths of his being.

"I want my lawyer. Tea said she would call George..." The whisper ended because now he was angry at his beautiful wife for getting the lawyer here..."WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?" That rage spewed out again and Todd pulled so hard on the restraints that they cut into his skin, blood blooming onto fine shirt. His heart was racing, and the pulse showed in his neck.

"Calm the hell down, Manning. You know better than most that in my world..." Bo leaned close to Todd. "Rage equals guilt."

In his mind, Bo slammed his own head against that table. GOD DAMN IT. There wasn't enough evidence for an arrest regarding Horenda, and as soon as he gets his lawyer, no more questions.

"Hey, Manning, let's try to finish this, okay? I know you're hurting and I know I'm responsible. Give me five more minutes and I'll let these charges go, otherwise, you're ours. Assault and dispossession will get you jail time. You don't need more jail, your family doesn't need more jail. Henry...ask again about Horenda."

In those two minutes, Todd had settled. He eyed the room and fixed his stare on the mirror. Wondered who was there. Staring back at him.

"Did you know Jessie Horenda while in Statesville?"

"I don't know. I knew a lot of guys inside."

"Here's the thing, Manning," Bo said. "The killing of Horenda was...sexual in nature. It implied a kind of revenge. Calling him a 'bitch' indicates some kind of traitor status. The penis thing and the baton indicate something else...something of...well...rage. Revenge. Total and complete removal of a man's power, i.e. his penis. You relate to that, don't you? If a penis is power, and an instrument of violent power, then if it is removed and stuck into one's mouth, well...that is quite the reversal of roles. The power has most certainly been removed."

Silence. He kept his eyes on that mirror. He felt the blood on his wrists. He was shaking. He dragged his gaze away from the mirror onto Bo. Bo held his gaze and shook his head at the sight of Todd's madness. My god, how close it lived to the surface, how easy to shake his tree. Even after three years of silence.

"The interesting thing is that...Horenda didn't have a lot of power, not in the big picture of things. So we're back to asking, why was this guy killed that way? Must have been...personal. The stabs to the chest, too, say the same thing. Takes an amazing amount of personal hatred to stab a guy well after he's dead...five, six...what was it? Twelve times. Did you hate Horenda?"

Silence.

"Todd, what did Horenda do to you? Did he...rape you? Did he take your power away?"

Silence. Todd closed his eyes, and turned his head, and when he looked again at Bo, he was the cornered pit bull in a kill-kennel. Bo sighed, feeling that shred of guilt of being the one who brought it all out.

"Here's my last set of questions. Todd...Henry and I noticed something interesting in your file from Statesville, in your parole pictures, in your various mug shots. Something unusual. In all your time there, how is it that you kept your hair so...long?"

Silence.

"Henry? Share the culture." Bo leaned back and Henry jumped in. "It's dangerous in prison to have hair any longer than past your ears. It marks you as a woman, it can be pulled, it can be used to strangle you with. And it takes way too long to wash in a shower. It's extremely dangerous which is why most if not all cons shave their heads or go marine-style. Only a few can keep their hair lengthier...people in power within the prison system, or people with absolutely NO power."

Bo asked, "So did you have power...or were you...a _woman_?"

Todd chuckled, then didn't. Hissed, "What do you think?"

Henry gazed at the trapped man across from him, "I think you had a hard-on when you got on top of me today."

Bo looked at Henry, a little surprised at Henry's bravado.

Todd's laughter was low and deep. "I did. At the thought of a bullet in between your eyes." He studied the cop's face, stopped laughing. "Up through your chin, blowing out the top of your skull. Got my cock hard. Did you like it?"

The young cop couldn't take his eyes off Todd Manning, the newspaper man, father, husband, sociopath.

"Todd," Bo said, "How is it that you managed to protect...Joe Rodriguez, for nearly two years before he was paroled? He was a delicate kid. 19 years old, weighing an entire 95 pounds. I checked on him. And found out he's happily living in New York City, working at a restaurant that caters to gay clientele. He laughs at Statesville. Says he was lucky. Didn't belong to a gang, couldn't fight for the life of him...and yet...he emerged out of there like he spent two years in a god damn charm school. He says, you helped him. He swears he was never raped or beaten. Ever. How? With all that...long hair."

Silence.

"Do you know Joe Rodriguez?"

Silence.

"I've got two more names of young men in similar positions who you..._protected._ With what? How?"

Silence.

"Last question...who is...Diego Loriz?"

Todd slammed his eyes to Bo, shaking his head. "I don't know."

"He worked for you."

"Names all sound the same to me."

"He's dead. Died in Statesville your third year there. Small guy. He had medical issues and there is one record of you requesting psych help for him. But you don't know him."

"Nope."

"Funny thing that kid. His autopsy body showed him missing teeth. All his front teeth...gone, top and bottom. So young, too. Died of a heroin overdose. Funny thing...no history of drug use."

Todd didn't flinch, staring at Bo. Darkly, deadly. His mouth twitched. His jaw clamped down tight.

The door opened and in strode George Strauss, cussing a storm. He'd been kept out. "Uncuff him. Son of a bitch, Commissioner, this how you treat your guests?"

"He did it to himself. Henry...uncuff him. We're going to hang on to those charges of assault, two counts, and dispossession of an officer's weapon."

"Fucking entrapment and you god damn know it," the lawyer hissed before pointing his finger at Todd, who'd growled at the cop, whose breathing intensified, who looked like he was entertaining another frontal assault. "Don't even think about it, Manning. He will remove the cuffs and you will thank him kindly."

The muscles in Todd's face twitched, and he snorted like a bull, shaking those cuffs...then Henry undid them and the pit bull rubbed his wrists. He stood and stopped at seeing Tea in the doorway. She looked frightened, worried, angry. She walked to him, wanting to wrap her arms around him, "I'm so sorry...they wouldn't let us in because you hadn't asked for a lawyer." Todd stood still, like a tree, like a damn redwood. He eyed her up and down, grunted a little and pulled away from her. Leaving her behind as he walked out the door. That limp intensified, deepened. He looked broken.

"You were wrong to do that to him," Tea said when she turned to Bo. "You were WRONG. You pushed him on purpose, you set that young cop on him knowing what would happen. How could you open him up like that?"

He pulled her aside, "You saw the entire interview then."

"And? I'm going to use it against you in a lawsuit if he..."

"Listen to me, look, listen...he did something to Horenda and I want to know why. He either murdered him himself, or he made it happen. He had something on that guy and it was god damn personal. You should want to know what it is. For your family, for your safety. Todd started something with that death. And kids are dying now. It's on him."

"Don't you dare put the actions of ANIMALS on Todd. Horenda obviously did something horrible to get that kind of punishment. For all the evil that might be in Statesville, you can't deny that sometimes justice prevails. And I suspect Horenda got exactly his due."

"And you think that's where this all ends? With Horenda? Don't you think that maybe...some of this is going to come back? Someone might be holding a very big grudge against Todd right now...don't you want to know all that might be lurking around? You have a family..."

"Don't use my family."

Bo looked at Tea, holding her cool stare, "What do you know about those kids and Todd? What were they giving for protection? Tea...nothing is given for free in prison. Ever. What do you think he was getting for all that...protection?"

She stared at him, her gaze icy.

"Tea...Manning has always been, mmm...what's the word, _indiscriminate _when it comes to sexual violence. I have seen him engage many people, use their weakness, to get what he wants. I don't put certain..._things_...past him."

"You're disgusting. My husband did what he had to to survive, to come home to his family. You did nothing to help him when you could have. He could have been in protective custody but you didn't arrange for that did you?"

"Couldn't justify it..."

"Couldn't justify it? And what about the fact that you set him up for the death of Phillip Manning, and that you let him hang for the death of the federal agent? I will never forget that it was YOU who let him walk out of Llanview General when he was so sick, so addicted, and in pieces inside. YOU DID THAT. YOU set him up as bait to that sick bastard, and then had the GALL to prosecute him for killing that...that...FUCK. Jedediah nearly DIED that night. And you...you set that up." Her tears welled... "No, Bo, you don't put Angel Square deaths on Todd. NO."

"But Tea...what about who he IS? Don't you want to know?"

"Why now, Bo? WHY NOW?"

With that she walked out, to whom...she wasn't sure.

Bo sat down on the chair in the room, collapsed more like it. Tapped his fingers on the table. He did feel some responsibility for Manning, that was true. He let that thing happen with Phillip Manning. Further...he bore responsibility for Brandy and not keeping her safe from the rotten federal agent, bore responsibility for lots of Brandy's and Todd's. Damaged goods. He tried to make up for it, changing policy, lobbying for better homeless shelters for kids. And yes, he didn't do enough for Todd in Statesville. The kid had it rough. Real rough. Getting dumped in gen pop. A rapist who happened to have money. But on the other hand...Todd had chosen Statesville. Never got that.

But all that aside, a reality remained, a mystery...Todd Manning kept that long hair and Bo knew god damn well it wasn't because he was a "woman." It was because Todd had became someone to be feared inside. Or maybe...he already was that someone. For sure, he still was that someone.

What the hell was everyone afraid of? He guessed Horenda's "punishment" might have been it.

Henry ambled back in the room. "How did you know he'd attack me?"

"I know Manning like the back of my hand. You did good, Henry. Real good. Todd is wracked with guilt, no question. He practically confessed to killing Horenda himself. Did you see him react to Horenda's name? And the kid...Loriz. There's a connection. God...GOD I hate being this close to nothing."

"Commissioner...what difference is this going to make? Horenda's old news. Water under the bridge. I was only trying to see if there was a way out of the gang war. Not so sure it really means anything. I kinda agree with Mrs. Manning. I suspect that Horenda guy got what he deserved."

Looking down at his hands, his aging hands, Bo sighed heavily. Said in a dark, serious voice that was tinged with regret, "Henry, if Todd is pegged as the killer of Horenda, we might be able to derail the gang war. They'll realize this was a...misstep. A truce might be possible. At this rate, it's nigh near impossible. The two gangs are in way too deep if we simply let the murder lie as one by the Irish."

Henry furrowed his brows..."Did you really use him as bait for Phillip Manning?"

"He volunteered."

The men walked out, leaving Henry to think about Llanview P.D. and his boss. He wasn't so sure about the plan. Wasn't so sure throwing Manning to the wolves, back into the misery of Statesville, would really derail the war. So then...what for? Why destroy a family, a man who seemed to have redeemed himself?

Or did he?

Henry felt that guy on his body, that weight, the rock in between his legs...Todd Manning had been turned on, but Henry knew it wasn't sexual. It was hate. Sheer...unadulterated, bottomless, stomach-turning hate. And where does that kind of hate come from?

Well, hate is on just this side of evil. Henry had a moment when he had looked into Todd's eyes, those wild eyes. He knew Manning could have killed him, would have beat the cops' guns. Not many people see that for real. And live through it.

As if Bo could read his mind, the Commissioner turned to Henry as they made their way to general booking, "Yes, Henry, Todd is a monster, and yes, you felt what you felt. But don't forget...he was made that way. He was once as innocent as his own children. And, so, we cannot forget what we might be sacrificing for the greater good."

God damn.

**To be continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Caged ** **Chapter 3**

Rule on kindness: Never take favors from anyone. You will owe them.

_Because he bested Moron, Todd got a short reprieve. People knew he'd fight, fight dirty, and beat someone twice his size. He quickly adjusted to the routine of getting up early, showering, eating meals with a batch of newbies, attending group sessions for drug addiction, and spending his afternoons playing basketball and lifting weights. Always took time to sit on the bleachers in the sun, just to think. But he knew the reprieve wouldn't last. Someone was going to want to see if his first day was a fluke. He felt the tension building, the curiosity. The bets._

_Moron was pissed. He'd been moved, sported a fresh mastectomy scar, and slunk around the prison, having hit a new low in his gang known as the Blue Aryans. Todd had a new cellie, a young kid who was scared shitless and had no people. But because he was with the new guy who'd eat your flesh if he wasn't in the mood for ya, people left him alone. The boy would follow Todd, but Todd would never talk to him. To do so would show a favor, a weakness._

_The reprieve ended when Todd was approached by the Blue Aryans. He was sitting on the bleachers, the kid, Brayden, nearby. When Brayden saw what was coming, he got up, heading back inside. Others got up, too. When Todd tried to get up, the leader, known as Silver Smith, slapped him back down. Two others crowded Todd and one moved directly behind him. Others sat near him, shielding the show from the COs. The challenge had come. _

_Silver, bald-headed and ugly as sin, grabbed Todd's hair with one hand, while the other hand held a shank to his jugular. "I don't like you," he said, "You haven't come talk to us. You haven't shown the requisite respect."_

"_That's because I don't like YOU. Now fuck off."_

_The guy behind then punched Todd hard in the back, forcing out a loud grunt. The pain was so bad, he immediately vomited, the attacker then yanking him back and slapping a hand on his mouth, trying to get Todd to aspirate the puke. Todd coughed and choked, vomit running down his throat and out of his mouth. His head was shaken, and he jerked against the ferocious hold of the inmate. _

"_From now on, Manning, you're ours. We're going to have some fun with you and that pretty hair. Be on the lookout."_

_They rocketed him to the dirt, leaving him beaten and in mind-numbing pain. Hacking out bile, he tried to get up and collapsed back into the dirt, dust sticking to the wetness. He had work to do now. He'd gotten his lawyer to get shit on these guys, damning shit, only the right opp hadn't happened. Passing off the info was his only shot to cut the Aryans. A fucking long, long shot - but without it, he was dead. He managed to sit up, pulling himself onto a higher seat. Watched the Aryans go inside. Barely able to move, he fell back to his side, every breath a knife ripping his insides. The basketball players watched him. The Mambo Knights. His opp._

_He tried to stand and fell hard, eating dirt again. The games had slowed. Got up again, walking slow like an old man. A basketball rolled near him. This was either the opp he was waiting for, or the end of the road. No matter the pain, he'd fight until there was nothing left. One of the Knights came up to the ball, and Todd watched him. Readied himself. They'd been up against each other on the court once or twice._

"_I got water," the guy said. "Here."_

_Todd shook his head, putting his hand up, saying, no. The place was spinning, but god damn, you don't take anyone's help. He threw up again, falling to his knees and pausing his forward movement but the pain finally lessened. Todd sighed, breathed out at the semi-bit of relief, and got up again. Wiping his mouth, he raised his eyes to look at his visitor, nodding his head at him, out of respect._

_The Mambo soldier commented, "You get props. You good on the court, and you don't fuckin' squeal when you're down. You get up. You're going to keep getting up until you're dead. Fuckin' props."_

_Todd nodded, appreciating. Took steps...snailing his way along._

"_We don't like the Blue Aryans."_

_After a moment, Todd took the biggest risk he'd ever taken in his life. Said quietly, "That 'cause they killed _El Brujo?"

_Dead silence. Todd looked into the sun, in the other direction. He stood a bit taller, straighter, and murmured, "You know who did it?"_

_Soldier shook his head, glancing back at the group on the court. "We gotta choose wisely. Can't go general. It'd mess up relations. Don't got the fuckin' proof."_

"_Check Trey Campbell's cell. You'll find what you need."_

_Todd looked at the guy in front of him, a hard stare. He'd just done a favor for the Mambo Knights. Now they owed him. People didn't like being given things because of the owing. But the killing needed retribution and they were in a tight spot due to prison trade deals. The man nodded. Next morning, Todd was still alive and Campbell was dead, shanked in the shower. Bloody mess with a nod to the flesh-eater: the guy's nipple had been cut off._

_The Blue Aryans didn't touch Todd again for a while, not the way they'd been planning. He was back in reprieve. _

_But there was more._

_The day after the Blue Aryan was murdered, Todd found a nice dollop of heroin-in-a-bag under his pillow. He studied it, caressed it, smelled it. He'd seen this brand being used here and there. He didn't dare use because being an addict in prison was a special kind of hell, but he coveted it like fucking Precious. Hid it inside his pillow. Undid the threads in the very corner, squeezing the bag inside. One long night, when the pain cut so deep he thought dying was a preferable option, he gave in. Snorted just enough to send him to that familiar place, that place of godliness. In the dark, in the late hour, for the first time, the thick walls felt loose, wavy, and penetrable...so easy to walk through. _

_There was hope for him...here. _

Tea walked out of the police station to the parking lot, seeing Todd leaning against her car and smoking a cigarette. He watched her make her way across the asphalt. He stood with his feet crossed, one hand in his pocket, the other working the cigarette. Tapping it on occasion, letting it hang from his lips. It was dark, and a street lamp lit him and the car from above, giving him a ghostly pallor.

Her shoes made a tapping sound as she approached.

She stopped short in front of him. "What happened in there, _amor_? I haven't seen that man in a very long time."

Puffing smoke, his face impassive, he just watched her. She reached for him and he jerked away.

"Don't," he said.

Tea studied him as he smoked, trying to gauge the likelihood of returning to the blissfulness of dinner. How quickly things had unraveled.

"I'm worried about you," she said, "worried about us. You didn't come across as innocent in there. And now they're hot and heavy after you for Horenda's murder. His _murder_, Todd. This is serious."

Life outside the parking lot made itself known, cars whizzing past on the not-so-distant highway, a winter carnival singing its music down the block, and the city lights, red and yellow and white glimmering around them. Their house was in the hills, their beautiful, stretched-out house with the wrap-around porch and the creek in the acreage behind. She thought of the massive windows, moonlight pouring into the darkened living room. So many nights the two of them had made love on that floor, too hot, too needy to go upstairs.

"Please tell me about him, what you know."

"You too?" He held her gaze, his poker face on.

"I know you have something to do with it and so do they. I need to know this. I need to know what we're up against. Are people coming after us?"

"Nobody is ever coming after you or the kids. EVER. I'll get to them first." He tossed the cigarette. "I need a drink, Tea. Take me home. I need...a fuckin' drink."

The idea of sobriety is a slippery one for people who have a problem only with illegal drugs. They often feel that their sobriety means not using the illegal thing they were addicted to. Problem is that that opens the door for other addictions to take over. Sex, smoking, drinking, prescription pills. Even marijuana in its quasi-illegal status. So when it came to alcohol, Tea always bit her tongue. As long as he's not using the _heron_, he's sober, right?

But she wasn't naive. Todd was an addict, would always be one. Heroin promised to always lurk in the background, always be part of their lives in one way or another. She'd never forget the mandatory exit drug test when he came out of Statesville...failed it hard for heroin. God damn, that hurt. Got him probation for another six months. On the other hand, she could only imagine what it was like, being in prison, bored, depressed, constantly fighting to stay alive. Given the choice, given the option...who wouldn't use inside?

But...she wondered now, in a way she hadn't before, in a way she avoided...how he got it, how he paid for it, how he got high and yet still stayed safe. How had he managed that kind of power on his own, with no gang to back him up and without the support of guards? How the hell _did_ he manage to keep that long hair, lined with white? Just like Bo asked.

Truth was, she wanted to know who her husband really was. She thought she knew...even with those stories from her clients...she thought she knew. Not so confident any more.

Stopping the car at a light, Tea commented, "We don't have anything at home to drink and I'm not stopping at a liquor store."

He huffed in aggravation and lay his head against the headrest. "How's that even possible?" he said in quiet voice.

"You know me...I de-cluttered this week."

"De-cluttered..."

He watched the light change and felt the pull of their BMW, black and sleek and quiet. He rubbed his wrists, absently lifting his wrist to his lips, licking the blood away that had dried there. He remained focused on the outside dark.

"You hurt yourself."

"I was trapped like an animal. For nothing."

It rang patently false to her. She sped along the road, her foot heavy with disbelief. He was lying to her.

"Tell me about these boys, Todd. Is it true? That you protected them?"

He said nothing, focusing only on the passing lights, the houses, the darkness. He focused on the forward movement of their car, thinking of their driveway, the darkness, the children sleeping in their beds. Thought of tomorrow morning, a meeting with the editors...forward, forward, forward, forward.

"Todd, you're not talking to me. I need to know these things. TELL me, please."

He suddenly sat up, reached his foot across to the drivers side and slammed on the brake, Tea screaming as he did that. "TODD!"

He jerked open the car door and walked away, on the isolated road towards their house. Tea jerked her own door open and yelled at him, "What are you doing? WHAT?"

He turned in the cold, hitting his chest with obvious agony, "Forward, Tea, forward!" He pointed ahead of him, ahead of them. Storming back to her, his face tight with insistence, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard, "Don't ask me to look backwards, Tea. Forward only. One day at a time, remember? REMEMBER? This is our life! Forward! That's it!"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"I spent years of my life, threw away YEARS of my life because of the past. I paid my dues because of the past. I hate the past, Tea, I hate it more than anything in the world. I have put it away, I have categorized it, studied it, fucking died for it. I'm all about the forward, the future...I am done with the past. Please don't ask me to go back."

She grabbed his face in between her hands, locking eyes with him, "But we're in danger now. Our future is in danger. Todd...for the love of our children...tell me what happened with Horenda, with those boys. If I know the truth, you, George and I can figure a way out. Back...to our future. I love you, I love us...I want to keep things the way they are...but I'm really, really scared. You scared me."

"Why do you think I want this shit to stay buried, Tea? Because I LOVE you! I love our family. These things...they'll destroy everything. Do you understand? My past...is my past...because of what it IS. You should be scared...scared out of your fucking mind."

He pushed her away and walked again. Up the road...he needed a drink. Yesterday their life had been blissful and today...monsters were at their door and he'd lost his cool. Assuring an open door for those monsters. He kept walking. Tea hopped in the car after he'd disappeared into the dark and she drove until she saw him.

Lowering down the window, she spoke through it, "Come on, _amor_. Just get in."

Kept walking, without looking at her, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shivering with the cold. The dark was comforting to him. He remembered other long walks in the city, in the winter darkness. He shuddered at instant memories, others that were not so instant. They skulked in the recesses of his mind, sometimes screaming to get out, but he'd push back, deeper, farther inside of him. He'd thought he'd buried them good and deep, protected, except now Bo disturbed them like ghosts in the graveyard, as if Bo had run screaming across the headstones, stomping on them at midnight. Woke them up. He'd...lost his cool because he'd made promises and he saw them through and Bo was knocking at the doors of those promises.

Todd had known it the moment they came crashing through that diner door. He KNEW they were waking those ghosts.

Fucking ghosts in the graveyard.

"Please get in, honey."

He slowed and finally stole a glance at her through the window, undecided. But he needed her, would always need her. So he opened the door and climbed in. Slammed the door shut.

Tea took a breath and ground her teeth, making a crunching sound. Todd shivered, "Tea, no."

She laughed a little at how that noise annoyed him. How sensitive he was to it. She had no idea why. They drove towards the house and she reached across to him, touching his leg. He held her hand, his skin icy, and pulled it to his equally cool face, kissing it. He closed his eyes and moved his cheek against the palm of her hand.

"I'm sorry you had to see me today," he said. "I wish you hadn't."

"It's good I did - now I know what I'm dealing with."

They pulled into their driveway and she killed the engine. They listened to the outside night life through barely open windows. The cold felt good. She remembered when that noise kept him awake. She remembered how he couldn't sleep when he first came home, that he needed the bedroom door locked. That he was ashamed. He watched the outside, entranced, clearly someplace other than in their driveway.

Swallowing hard, Tea took a jump that she simply could not stop, her need to break open the truth overwhelming. "Todd, I heard things about you, when you were in prison."

He didn't move, keeping his eyes focused on the blackness.

"A client I represented. He told me how you saved his life. That you..." She paused, battling within on how much to say. Todd didn't move. She pressed on. "He said that you pretended to hurt him, that others thought you were very dangerous, that...by pretending that boy was yours, your...lover, your victim, that everyone left him alone."

The silence continued. The same as he'd done with Bo. He didn't move an inch, didn't react. He bit his lip though, chewed on it. Then closed his eyes. Shook his head.

"Forward," he whispered.

"You did something special for that kid, you risked your life for him and it worked. He said, that the person you created, the fiction...saved him. He said he would never forget you. That he wished you could know this. He said he's living a wonderful life, that...he was getting beaten..." She hesitated. "He said he was getting raped, and that you stopped that. Is that what you did for the other boys?"

He rubbed his mouth with his hand and ran his fingers along the edge of the window. His hand was shaking, and his breathing had changed. Tea could see he was on the edge of something and so wanted him to open up, so wanted him to tell her everything. God, she knew how he was fighting this...she wanted to leave him alone, she did, but their children inside, their own vulnerabilities, kept her going.

"Todd, Is it true? Is it?"

"Stop it..."

"And if you did all that, what did you ask of them? In exchange for that protection, for your incredible risk?"

"Don't..."

"Bo was insinuating something..."

He reached to her and put his fingers on her lips now, moving close to her. He held her hair loosely in his hand, and shook his head, "Please don't, don't be them." He paused, breathed out hard. "I need a fucking drink."

"We don't have anything to drink."

He sat in the dark, touching her hand, her fingers. Running up her arm, and back down. Tea trembled, knowing where this going. If he couldn't get booze, and if he was locked out of heroin...well...there was always sex. That twitch hit him and he grunted softly, as if a shock of adrenaline had gone through him. It probably had.

It was the rush of addiction.

He took her hand and pushed it down to his crotch, made her rub him. She shook her head, "No, no...not like this." God, god, she hated Bo, hated him for waking this man up.

"You left me this morning..."

He kept her hand on him, forcibly moving her on him, and watched her face. She tried to pull away but he wouldn't let her. He reached across and touched her lips, sticking his fingers inside her mouth. Then he rubbed her lips, getting lipstick on his thumb. He ran his thumb on his own tongue. She shook her head away from him, trying again to pull her hand away.

"I'm not doing this," she said.

"Yes, you are..." His breathing became ragged, sped up.

Tea's own body flooded with pain, memory, and the never-ending desire to save him, to enable him, to kill...THIS man. She then gave in to her own addiction, to that ever-present codependency, and unbuttoned his jeans, placing her hand directly on him, feeling how hard he was. He groaned and moved his hips, touching her head, her hair. Watching, watching...

It hurt her through to the core. How easily he moved into this place. He kept control over her hand, still, and made her move faster. She knew she was his drug. She knew it was wrong.

He looked at her directly, watching her lips, her mouth, as she touched him. This was the best of both worlds...feeding an addiction and redirecting the conversation.

She'd caught hair in her hand and he hissed, but she knew there was a part of him that liked the pain. She knew the darker side that got very excited when she'd be in pain, or tied up, or anything regarding...restriction. Even on the rare occasion, when he was the one restricted. That always hurt her...always...because the pain he liked was so very old...so very rooted in abuse.

He lifted her hand to his mouth and he spit in it, returning her hand to the job. Rubbing now, faster now, he rolled his eyes back. He moaned gently and she tried again to quit, getting him to look at her and hold her hand tighter.

"Do it...don't stop...I need this...I _fucking_ need this..."

"Damn you," she murmured.

He groaned more and she gritted her teeth...wanting to quit, but she couldn't. Like watching a train wreck...isn't that what they say?

She slid her hand up and down and watched his face and he watched hers. He reached across and tore open her blouse to touch her breast, sticking his hand into her bra and pinching her nipple. She moaned at the hurt, and he licked his lips at that,

God, she knew his weaknesses. He pinched her nipple harder and Tea's mouth parted to breathe...whimpering at the wound, sending him deeper into well-learned perversions of love. He grabbed her hair and pulled her closer, pulled her mouth closer to his. She smelled on his breath, stress, thirst, cigarettes. He kissed her mouth hard, shoving his tongue into her. Uncaring, unloving, dispassionate.

No, no, this was not about love.

He moved his hips, picked up the pace of movement to match hers, but then... just as she felt his cock get harder and the wetness began coming from him, just as she heard more noise coming from deep in his throat, knowing he was an instant away, she said in a voice barely above a whisper...

"Is this what those boys did for you?"

His eyes shot open wide as he ejaculated hard into her hand, a shock of an orgasm, his expression mixed with horror, pleasure, and agonizing disappointment. He pushed her away, shoved her away, and he hunched over, his whole body wracked with the waves of the intense come. When his body regained calm, he looked at her, stricken.

"Why would you do that to me?"

His voice cracked with innocence and Tea shut her eyes, her hands on the steering wheel, her head down. She pressed the leather, sickened that she'd betrayed his trust. She knew him better than that. He'd never abuse a boy, or any young, delicate kid in such an outrageously vulnerable situation. Now, give him an adult woman, yes. An adult man...he'd do more than abuse them. But...kids...

"Oh my god," she breathed. "I'm sorry..."

She wiped her hands on her coat and hated herself for being so good at abusing him, so powerful in her own abuse of him. "I'm sorry...," she said, uselessly.

"Fuck you," he growled. "Fuck you...FUCK YOU." He opened the door and stormed out, slamming the door hard.

Tea sat in the quiet and she watched him open the garage door and disappear inside. Within moments, she heard his beloved Porsche Roadster start up and she was left in the proverbial dust. He needed air. She knew he'd be getting drunk somewhere. She resisted following him. She'd hurt him...but then, he'd hurt her so many times. Perhaps that's why it had been so natural, to be so mean.

God, how easily Bo had turned him upside down, but worse...how easily Bo had turned HER upside down. Watching her husband devolve before her eyes into someone she thought long gone had rocked her soul.

How obviously close to the bones of both of them Bo had cut.

The house looked lonely and she cursed Bo for opening doors that should have stayed shut. She picked up her phone and searched through her contacts, looking up an old friend who had a new job: warden of Statesville Prison. If Todd wasn't going to jump into saving the family, then she was.

The phone rang and a cheerful voice on voice mail responded, to which Tea said, "Shondra Dixon, this is Tea Delgado...I'd like to come visit you...I need information."

**To be continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

CagedChapter 4

Rules on rapists: they will be challenged until they prove themselves to be unbeatable.

_Long hair was trouble. Todd knew that. Guards told him to cut it and he refused because he wanted the others to know that he wasn't scared, that he'd look however the fuck he wanted to look. He kept it tied back most of the time, other days he'd let it hang loose. He knew it was a matter of time before he was going to have to prove himself again. So he worked those weights, and he made sure he had a weapon on him at all times, a toothbrush he'd fashioned into quite the knife. He'd gotten pretty good at whipping it out of his elastic waistband. _

_Week three had come and he already had an impressive trail of wreckage behind him. One dead, one forever disfigured, and two gangs in new positions of power. The Mambo Kings held a begrudging respect for him, and while the Blue Aryans hated him, they were cautious about him. _

_But now the Eighth Street Corner gang started sniffing around him. These guys were Black with strong opinions on sex offenders. They made sure all sexual predators inside got what they gave outside. Problem was, they discriminated against no one. ALL offenders got it, even the peeping toms and kids who caught cases for statutory rape for screwing someone their own age. In other words, the Eighth Street Corner was all about vengeance rape. Todd began noticing their glances his way, their movements towards him. Twice soldiers had purposely bumped into him, hoping for a reaction. Todd knew something was coming._

_Todd worked in the library, a job Bo got for him. This put him in closer, easier contact with his lawyer and the information highway. He already had files in his head on most of the Statesville gangs, had dirt on them. Real specific, real damning shit. People began to recognize him as an information broker. Little things he seemed to know: who had the drugs, candy, smokes, who had the cell phone and the code to crack the computer to get full Internet. Whatever shit you wanted, Todd knew something that could help you out. In exchange, people gave him more information. They also figured out he had a taste for heroin. The track marks gave him away. Shit got slipped to him; he didn't always keep it. It was currency. He exchanged the dope for stuff he needed, for more information. When heroin wasn't available, they'd slip whatever they had, pills, weed, whatever. All currency just the same._

_One afternoon, a Chinese soldier wanted speed under the radar from his gang, wanted a needle, so Todd asked what he could give him in trade._

"_The time the Eighth Street Corner guys are gonna jump you."_

_Todd shot him a hard look. "How you come to know that?"_

"_My boss...he deals herb to them. They were bragging."_

"_Talk to Greg Johnson, Harlem man, went to Harvard. Plays chess in the mornings. Tell him you got a referral from Al G. He'll set you up."_

_Soldier looked around and said, "They're coming for you tonight, man, at your own cell. Someone gots a key and there ain't gonna be guards on duty. Coincident like."_

_That night Todd slept with his eyes open. His cellie, Braden, was snoring away. Sure enough, at midnight, his cell door rolled opened. Within seconds, Todd was on his feet on the ready but the men were fuckin' fast, slamming him to ground, face down, his head hitting the concrete making the room blur. Their deep laughs echoed in the room, the snoring having silenced. The world slowed to a maddening pace, frame by frame. Todd knew he was going get raped, and probably wouldn't survive. The guards had decided to turn a blind eye to it._

_He tried like mad but couldn't move. His cellie watched from the top bunk, his face frozen in utter terror. They locked eyes and Todd wished he could spare this kid this kind of memory. The men didn't talk, sticking to business. He felt his pants get pulled off and he struggled even more against them to no avail. They were just too god damn big, too god damn strong. One of the guys acted as a lookout while the other got on top of Todd who wasn't keeping still, who was flailing and pushing and growling like a mad dog._

"_Come on, bitch, you can't get out of this. You hurt women...we hurt you. That's the way justice works."_

_The guy tried to push himself inside, and couldn't...Todd moving too much, too wildly. Pissed the guy off so he pulled up to punch Todd in the head, to spit, to make things easier. Loosened his grip._

_Loosened it just enough for Todd to twist around and swing his hand with the knife hard and deep across the throat of his attacker. Blood splashed Todd in the face. The guy backed off, trying to get to his feet, allowing Todd to totally flip over and drag that knife back in the other direction, to make sure he'd done it right the first time. More blood flew across the room. He'd gotten both sides of the neck, the jugular on both sides. The guy grabbed his throat and fell to his knees, choking, bleeding out. Fell face down._

_Todd stood now, the knife in his hand, blood streaking his naked body. The other guy backed up against the door, his mouth open in shock. Blood pooled at their feet._

_Todd smiled, "What's the matter, bitch? Isn't this how _justice _works?"_

_In minutes, the guards were there and Todd was dragged outside, dragged down the hallway naked and bloody. Inmates were awake now, screaming and whooping it up. He walked tall and straight, hair swinging as much as his dick. The Grim Reaper tattoo on his back was beginning to look more and more literal. His attacker was stone dead and the other guy was struck dumb, refusing to say anything because how the hell could he explain his being in Manning's cell in the first place?_

_Todd spent a week in the hole. The incident didn't get reported proper because the guards had been in on it. They kept Todd's name off the paperwork and the thing went down as an unsolved. As he walked back to his cell, people watched him, not a single sound coming from any of them. He got nods of approval, got clicks of tongues signaling a truce. That night he got fucked up on dope and drifted in the dark, walking the dark woods of bliss. He could hear someone crying in that dark wood, and he realized it was him._

_The killing hadn't come for free._

The New Orleans trip had been pretty successful for Jedediah Chant and he was glad to be coming home, more money in his pocket and props from his boss, R.J. Gannon. The small cargo plane dipped a little, hitting some turbulence and bounced a little, giving Jed a thrill. He chuckled and righted the plane, eying the lights of the Llanview Airport runway.

Damn he loved his life. Sure, he was sorry he had to leave gorgeous, sexy, Flora with the chocolate brown skin in that steamy hotel room in the French district. God, he hated leaving her bed. On the other hand, he couldn't wait to talk to Mayra...senior at Llanview U., airplane junky, and long black hair that swung over his chest when she got on top...

He narrowed his eyes to focus on something on the runway, not able to figure if it was an illusion, or actually something in the way. He got closer, closer, and when he just about hit ground, he pulled hard on the control stick to get the plane back up, screaming out, "MotherFUCK!"

On the ground, Todd laughed his ass off. He'd parked his car on the runway after speeding the roads of Llanview for an hour or so, after drinking his way through half a scotch bottle. He laughed so hard, he fell over, and from that position watched Jed turn the plane around and land on the other runway. When the plane finally stopped, when it was finally tucked away into the hangar, he watched his kid make his way across the field.

God damn he's good, Todd thought. He got to his feet and smiled at that boy who looked fit to be tied.

"The hell are you doing, Pops? You could have gotten killed, you could have killed me! You fuckin' bastard!"

"I love you too, Jed," he slurred, pointing his finger at Jed's heart. "And I _really_ mean that. Love you so fuckin'...MUCH." Todd laughed and fell against the car.

"Oh Jesus...wow, you're drunk."

Jed wore his golden brown hair much like his father used to, just above his shoulders, thick and full. He had a good collection of tattoos but the tone was worldly rather than dark. Tribal bracelets, words of freedom in all languages, and the piece de resistance, the amazing "Gypsy" across his back. The kid was as tall as Todd and as slender. He had those hazel eyes, but he also had that Manning edge - catch Jed wrong and he'd take you out fast and quick. Served him well in his work - RJ had sent him on some pretty crazy missions.

"Gimme the god damn keys, Pops."

Todd threw them to Jed and Jed got in, clicking the engine on. He pressed the gas and heard that engine roar. He tilted his head towards his father just as he tumbled into the passenger seat, "Gotta hand it to you, this is a beauty. Damn."

"Drive."

They took off fast and headed home. As they got near, Todd sighed and clapped a hand on his son's shoulder. "I got a situation."

Jed furrowed his brows and glanced at his father who definitely looked as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his back. Even drunk. Jed saw the bottle still in the seat, next to Todd. Half gone...no glasses, paper bag on the floor. Made him nervous.

"Tea okay? The kids?"

"Oh yeah, yeah…peachy."

"This is about you, then. Just you. The hell did you do?"

Todd craned his neck, looking at Jed and smiling drunkenly, "You're awesome."

"This is bad, isn't it?"

The smile disappeared off Todd's face and he looked away, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He rolled the window down and ran his hand through the wind, feeling the cold hard air against his skin. He smiled and watched the darkness pass him by. The one thing he kept from Statesville was the memory of being inside. The wish to be driving on Llanview roads, driving fast, cutting cold air. These moments were just that much more pleasurable.

Jed rolled into the driveway, got out, and opened the door for Todd. Jed stuck a hand out and Todd took it, letting himself get pulled out of the car. Two in the morning looked dark as hell. Todd didn't want to go inside so the two settled on the porch, collapsing on a long cushioned seat. Both huddled in their coats. Jed tapped the scotch and bummed a cigarette from Todd.

"I want you to know something," Todd said, lighting a cigarette and puffing out the smoke. Looked at the end of it, stuck it back in his mouth and settled back into the seat, his legs stretched out. "You like that car?"

"Well, yeah..."

"You can have it. It's yours. I'll take care of registration tomorrow."

Jedediah suddenly had a wish for a stronger drink. More. "You sound like you're dying, Pops...what the hell?"

"We're all dying, Jed." He chuckled softly. "You seeing somebody? Gotta girlfriend?"

"Umm...yeah, naaah. I'm not ready. I've been thinking of getting another plane, maybe two. Thinking of getting my own company...but..." He spat out the words, "But fuck! What is going on!"

Tea opened the door and Jed turned to her, seeing her standing with her arms crossed. She was in a coat, but she had slippers on, flannel pajamas. She'd been in bed, but obviously wide awake. Her tone was bitter, short, "What's going on? Bo Buchanan called, and your father is accused of killing someone in prison and he refuses to talk. He refuses to tell anybody anything even if that person can HELP HIM!"

Jed turned back to Todd who rolled his eyes and just puffed away. "That true, dad? Why won't you let anyone help you?"

That weakened Todd, Jed's use of the word, dad. Only when he felt the most concern, the most love, the most...anything...did Jed use that word. Todd said nothing.

"You see?" Tea sighed and moved to sit next to her husband. He looked at her and put his head on her shoulder, weary. She put her arm around him, smoothing his hair. "I wish you would talk to me, _amor_. I'm not trying to pry, or drag out painful memories, and I'm sorry about earlier. I...I was scared and very angry that you're not willing to help the situation by telling me the truth, truths I should know. I'm so sorry." Her last words were whispered.

"I know, I was an asshole." He grinned at her suddenly, "Though I have to say..."

Tea smacked a hand on his mouth, "Shhhh...Jed is here."

"But..." He shivered, his mouth parted, his eyes closed in what had to be a physical recollection, "Holy shit..."

Jed suddenly realized that Todd was talking about something...well...physical, "Oh really, parents, too much information here."

Tea chuckled, shaking her head, but then she got serious. "You're doing it differently now. But you're still avoiding." Like a blanket of sudden snow, the mood shifted. Todd pulled away from Tea and looked into the distance. Lit up again, took another swig of scotch.

"So let me get this straight," Jed said, "Buchanan is accusing you of murder, you're not saying shit to your lawyer or Tea, you're acting like an asshat, getting drunk, and giving away your property. Yeah, definitely sounds like you've got it all under control. Real evolved."

Todd shrugged, "You're awesome."

"Seriously, murder? Again? Are you going back to jail?"

"Hell no, I'll be dead first."

"Sounds like that's your plan," Jed murmured, pissed now. "Real fuckin' evolved."

Todd sat back up and looked at two of the few people he loved in this world. "I don't want it to touch you."

Both Jed and Tea looked confounded and at the same time said, "It already has!"

It was strange how his life had changed, and how it hadn't. He was born into a life of secrets and to this day, they continued to work him from within. All the forward movement didn't do a thing to silence those secrets, to keep them buried. He dropped his chin and held his head in his hands. "I can't...tell you...I don't want to tell you. I want this to go away."

Tea put her head close to him, "I know. But it's not going to...not until you tell your side. To me."

He looked at the two of them and realized he needed to say something. Just enough. He did owe them the reality of what they were up against. He stood up, puffing on that disintegrating cigarette. He cleared his throat and then bent to pick up the scotch. He tilted it back and took a long swig. Found it hard to talk. Puffed some more. Looked hard at Tea.

"Yes," he said. "I had something against...Jessie _Horenda." _He said the name like he had shit in his mouth. "He was a fuckin' monster. And he died the way he did because of it." He looked across the porch at Tea, the moonlight lighting her face. He smiled a little, then didn't. "I did damage to him that he was awake for."

Jed, who didn't know many details, glanced at Tea, then asked, "What kind of damage?"

"Doesn't matter." He looked at his knuckles, looked at the LOVE, then ran a tongue along his bottom lip. "Just know his last vision was of me. I didn't kill him, but I was there. I do not regret it. I only regret that the fuckin' cops are giving his corpse the fuckin' time of day. That they're touching MY family, MY life, FOR THAT piece of shit." As he spoke, the rage came back, and it burned his every word, he shook with it. He picked the bottle of scotch up, drank the rest of it, and smashed it against the porch wall with every bit of strength he had.

He turned and leaned on the porch railing, breathing hard, shaking his head. "Died too good...I wanted to do more to him...but we ran out of time."

Tea sat back, and breathed out a heavy sigh of stress. "You're in deep, then. That can't come out."

Jed got up and stood next to Todd, spoke quietly, "What did he do, dad? Did he hurt you?"

"Me? No...fuck no. He hurt someone else. Someone who couldn't fight that fat...fuck."

The boys. The boys he protected. Horenda hurt a boy that Todd could not protect. She remembered the interrogation, the one name that got Todd to react. Subtle...but still a reaction. Diego Loriz. He died of a drug overdose. Had no teeth. Tea swallowed what felt like a rock in her throat. Todd had said a lot. And what he said was damning. No wonder he didn't want to talk to Bo about it. Or her.

But now she knew. This was bad. And she had an inkling that this was only the tip of the iceberg.

He walked toward the door and stumbled, Jed catching him and getting him back to his feet. Todd pushed his kid away from him. He felt the filth of Statesville on him, on his skin. He didn't want it on Jed. He wanted a hot, scalding shower. He needed it. He paused at the door and turned to Tea, "No, Delgado, those boys didn't _do things_ to me in exchange for protection. What I did demand...and I mean _demand,_ was information. They learned shit from people, they passed shit on to people...and...uh..."

Tea recognized the shame on his face. He furrowed his brows and twisted his mouth, a look of pleading for the smallest bit of forgiveness, "They did those things so I could get more information. More _hurtful_ information. See...I survived Statesville by knowing..._everything_. And I did anything to get it, to maintain a space of safety for myself...for those boys." The expression on his face was sad. He looked to his wife and his son. "By the time I got to Horenda, I was almost as big a monster as he was. And it's all going to come out. By the end of this...you're not going to love me anymore. You're going to realize what Statesville did to me. You think you're scared now, Tea? Just you wait." He smiled at them, swayed a little under the weight of the scotch and walked inside, the door slamming shut.

The only noise Tea and Jed could hear was the outside noise of nighttime life, crickets, birds, the movement of the trees in the winter breeze.

The shower was hot, burning his skin. Todd sat huddled on the tile floor, hugging his knees, his head down, his wet hair hanging about his face. Vaguely, he remembered cutting himself, oh so long ago. He looked at the scars on his arms, up and down the inside of both his forearms. He'd meant business. He'd meant to die. The idea was that Satan lived inside of him and the only way to kill Satan was to kill his body. Didn't work.

He raised his head, that felt heavy and weighted, knocking back against the wall. No amount of hot water would erase what he'd done to those kids, all in the name of protection. Sure, they appreciated it, sure it worked to keep them alive and untouched...but almost every one walked out of Statesville with a host of crimes under their belt and a new level of badness handed to them by Todd Manning.

Tea made it sound so...saintly. Saving that kid's life.

_Thank you, thank you, boss, for not really raping me, for making people think you're raping me...thank you, thank you. God I love being seen as a monster's lover, as a kid who LIKES getting raped and LOVES his rapist._

Todd got to his feet, pushed open the shower door and vomited hard into the toilet. He collapsed onto the floor, grabbing a towel off the heated rack. Cuddled there, like a ruined dog.

Ruined.

After some minutes, he stood and shut the shower off. That kid was so grateful, he had no idea what he was saying. The thing had started so small, just a little info here and there. Just a big piece of info to save his own ass from the Blue Aryans. From there...it expanded. But soon...it wasn't just his own life he was saving. There was a new goal. And that goal was so far-fetched, so impossible...that he had to become the kind of monster that Horenda was. Fictional, real...what difference?

When he met Diego Loriz, Todd's mind split, cracked into a million pieces. And when that happened, Statesville learned just who Todd Manning was.

To be continued... 


	5. Chapter 5

**Caged** **Chapter 5**

Rule on top dog: nobody stays on top forever.

_Once Todd killed his attacker, people knew just how far he'd go if pushed. But now that made him top dog and nobody stays there for long. The day he got out of solitary, the fights started. He was getting it wherever he went, totally unexpectedly, for the smallest of reasons. There didn't seem to be a peaceful moment for him anywhere other than when he was locked in his cell, or working in the library._

_He didn't always win his fights either - sometimes the knock-down, drag-out brawl got thankfully interrupted by guards, which always got him sent to the hole for conduct unbecoming. But losing or not, he never stopped wailing on these guys, no matter how bloody and beaten he was. The fights he won, on the other hand, he won hard. The losers never again tried to take him on._

_After four or five weeks, he was tired, bruised and cut, scared, and fighting a very real threat of heroin addiction once more. Found himself increasingly keeping the little packages he'd get, and getting careless with testing what was in those little bags. Snorted that shit up, drifted all night, be damned the consequences. _

_One afternoon, he made his way to the basketball court, hoping for a game. Just wanted to toss that ball around. As he headed to the farthest court, where a band of newbies played on their own and usually welcomed him, he noticed people shuffling away and whispering. He slowed his walk and took in everything, gauging where the next jump was coming from. He had another weapon, not as good as the other, but good enough._

_When he saw the newbies drop the ball and head the other way, he knew for sure no game was happening today. Nope, the El Salvadorans had a beef with him. The head guy, Carlo, held a knife in one hand, body tatted the hell up, with a shock of black hair like a satanic Eskimo. His face showed every year of the twenty served so far on a life-without-parole murder charge. Pretty fucking top dog._

"_You're in my way, bitch," the guy growled._

_Todd knocked his head back, got his tough on, crazily thinking that maybe, maybe he could get out of this by being...well..._honest_. "I'm here for a pick-up, man, that's all. I ain't got nothing for you, nothing on you..."_

_The fight was a loser before it even got started. Carlo outweighed Todd by a hundred pounds of raw muscle, out-knifed him, and out-manned him. Three guys at once came at him and in seconds, stabbed him seven, eight times in his side and back, leaving him bleeding out on the court and suffocating from a punctured lung. No fight left, he lay there like a fish tossed out of the current, staring at the blue sky, the stupid-ass shank still in his fist. He was going to die on a shitty prison yard with his cheek smashed up against cracked asphalt._

_Sonofabitch._

_It was strange those last moments of life - didn't see his loved ones, dead or alive, didn't wax poetic on the beauty of life. Nope, in his last moments of consciousness, all he could think was that he wanted to play ball, play a game that didn't mean anything other than just a game. Watched the dirty red b-ball in the cool sun fade to black._

_Four days later he woke up in the infirmary, blinking open his eyes to Bo Buchanan sitting in a chair next to him. The commissioner said, "Hey, Manning, welcome back."_

_Todd understood real quick that he was seriously fucked up. He couldn't move because he was in restraints and bandages, and couldn't talk because he was on a respirator. He started to fight, as if he could change the circumstance, and Bo stood at that, putting his hands on Todd, shushing him, promising that everything was okay. The guy looked sorry and Todd stopped fighting, locking eyes with the Commissioner._

"_Collapsed lung, nicked heart, damaged hip, muscles torn, nearly bled to death in the yard...then you had a pretty bad seizure. Your cell mate, Braydon Armstong? Young kid, got guts...he was able to get you help. Manning, wanna tell me who did this? No reason for you to let them get away with it."_

_Todd laughed, no sound, no expression, all thanks to the tube taped to his mouth, but his body shook with the joke of telling. Bo seemed to get it and looked away, disappointed. _

"_Didn't think you'd say anything. Want me to get someone for you? You can have a visitor...the intensive care unit allows-"_

_Todd really fought now, shaking his head, his body straining, heart racing, stitches tearing...bringing the attendants who fired something into the main line. When the drug hit him like a fucking mack truck, and his body finally began to calm, Bo laid his hand on Todd's chest, looking him in the eyes once more. Bo reached for a tissue to wipe the hot tears that were streaming down Todd's face. He then promised to not say anything to anybody. With a heaviness that Todd sometimes thought he'd dreamt, he said, "I'm sorry, Manning. I'm sorry I can't protect you. You got it rough, kid. God damn it."_

_It took about a month to heal enough to return to gen. pop. During that time, life was quiet, peaceful. Although he got precious little useful information from his new "employee," Braydon, he did manage to use the kid to keep his ears to the ground. He cut off ties with heroin, too, vowing not to do it again. Said those steps. _

_He also had a revelation: shit wasn't going to stop unless he went on the offensive. He'd spent the last two months on the constant _defense_ and that was the problem. Can't get the touchdown unless you break through the pack._

_His rap sheet said he was a predator...now he was going to BE one. _

_When he walked back to his cell, bearing a brand-spankin' new limp that would never go away, people saw a man who'd survived something he was never meant to survive. They also saw something else he'd been repressing, something he'd been nurturing for a god damn long time...cold, hard HATE. People looked the other way when Todd threw a glance at them. Yeah, something had changed. _

_In the yard that very afternoon, Todd approached the Cuban Mambo Kings. Real public. Asked a soldier for permission to talk to Ernesto Perez, the leader, which was quickly given. Ernesto rivaled Carlo in size and meanness. The tats showed off his _Cubano _roots, and they also marked the number of men he'd killed and lost. A black-haired woman with tears running down her face lay up and around his massive arm...her heart broken._

"_I got business," Todd said._

"_You done right by us. Talk."_

"_The El Salvadoran, Carlo...he needs to learn a lesson."_

_Ernesto glanced around, weighed the value of the man in front of him. "What's it to us? We got no problem with the El Salvadorans."_

"_What do you want?"_

"_You can't deliver..."_

"_Try me."_

_The group chuckled, laughing a little at the absurdity. First time had been lucky - soldier took a risk and the info was right. Lightning don't strike twice. When Todd didn't laugh, they got serious. Ernesto squinted in the light, shrugged. "Why the hell not?" Threw the top of the line at him, fuckin' make-a-wish on a star. "The end of the Irish hold on the Llanview meth labs. We want it." _

_The soldiers laughed. High-fived. Fuckin' make a wish, man._

_Todd nodded, glancing quickly at Ernesto, but not lingering. "Give me time."_

_Ernesto shook his head..."You got two days. After that...we don't goddamn know you."_

_Using the lines of communication he'd already set up in Statesville in combination with lines through his lawyer, in two days Todd had the name of the outside guy whose death would cripple the Irish meth trade and open a huge door for the Mambo Kings to step in. One man. When he was taken out, Ernesto came to Todd. Tapped his cell door and kept walking. Two days later, the El Salvadorans had a new leader since the other was found strangled to death in his cell by an unknown attacker. The body of course...gave a nod to the flesh-eater: Carlos's left nipple floated in the toilet bowl. Shit got around. People knew now that Todd had power and that he'd use it._

_Swinging that hair, just like his dick._

_The fights abated and Todd went back to his job at the library, once more driving a speedster down the information highway. When the dope packages started coming in trade for info, Todd resisted them, passed them along...but when the pain of being where he was got too much, he fell into the Princess's arms like falling into a pool of water in the middle of the desert. _

_Promises...promises._

Tea flipped the pages of Todd Manning's prison file, one at a time, slowly, deliberately, her eyes hardly absorbing the words. She felt like she was looking at someone's joke of a school scrapbook. Annual pictures, evaluations, medical office visits, one very long prison hospital stay which told her just how his leg had been injured, and reports for every time he got put into solitary for "conduct unbecoming." Swallowed hard as she scanned the sheer number of failed drug tests and the kick-backs to the drug program. Heroin. She closed her eyes, a headache lurking at the base of her neck. But that's not what really got to her.

No...no...words have impact, but pictures have more.

His yearly mug shots were his history, and they showed a transformation into someone she did not know. He went from someone accepting and ready for penance, to an arrogant, impenetrable, inhuman criminal. The fourth shot, his fourth year...she literally did not recognize him.

Long stringy hair in his face, his mouth turned down into a scowl from hell, rough facial hair along his jaw, and his eyes...full of dark, dark hate. God...she'd never seen that, not until the previous day in Bo's interrogation room. And even that was only a fraction of what she was looking at in the fourth year. Fifth year shot showed little improvement.

A small sigh escaping, she sat back in the hard wooden seat, her gaze lingering on his exit photo...cleaned up, ready for life on the outside, and wearing what she thought was a hard five-years in his eyes and body. She had no idea what his five years REALLY looked like. His exit photo...wasn't it. He'd softened since, his attitude, his voice, the way he made love to her. He was her husband, a loving father, committed to work and family. Bo shook another person out of him. That's who she was after. And she found him in the fourth year shot.

Tea was sitting in the office of Statesville's warden, Shondra Dixon. The first Black woman to hold such an esteemed position. Tea and Shondra had gone to law school together, Shondra taking a detour to the police force, doing a stint as a district attorney, and then ending at Statesville. She'd been warden for four years and not once had Tea ever tapped her for information on Todd, on purpose. Not knowing worked for her. It insulated her and her children from true ugliness. Not knowing allowed her to love Todd again, love him for what he brought to her world. She loved...not knowing. Damn Bo Buchanan for making her look.

Shondra had been Todd's warden in Statesville - her first year, his last. When Tea had knocked on her door early Saturday morning for the drive to Statesville, Shondra had looked Tea up and down, looked at her pretty pantsuit and pretty coat and trussed hair, and simply asked, "You ready for this, baby girl? You sure about this? This is your husband we're talking about...and he's living real peaceful-like...and you're happy."

"Show me," Tea said.

When they got to her office, when Shondra broke the prison's privacy laws, she lifted the heavy brick of a file and slapped it down on the research table in her office. She said, "THIS...this ain't the man you know. This isn't your husband. You still sure?"

"Show me," Tea said.

The two women sat across the table from one another, drinking coffee, the file in between them. The office was beautiful, boasting rich dark wood, a massive mahogany desk, windows that opened onto a private garden. There was an inmate tending it, an older man, old. He clipped roses and other flowers. Watered. Pushed and prodded the soil. He hunched over his work, aged tattoos up and down his arms that swirled now, dipped and bent, looking like a Salvador Dali painting.

"Well?" Shondra asked, mixing some sugar into her coffee.

"Bo Buchanan signed off on surgery for him. Surgery...he was in the hospital for a month, on a respirator for four days. He nearly DIED. How could he keep that a secret?"

"Mr. Manning did not want anyone to know of anything that happened here. He did not want his people to worry about him. Especially you."

"He worked for you?"

"Yes, but not until the last six months, when he was put into our prep course."

"Prep course?"

"Yes, a special course for our exiting inmates that I created, a program geared to ...mmmm... how do I say this, geared to men least likely to positively adjust to life outside, the ones most likely to come back." She added, "Most likely to come back with murder charges, rape charges, drug trafficking...the worst crimes."

"Isn't that all of them? Really?"

Shondra put her coffee down, slipping into her warden-wear, sounding like a politician, "Surprisingly, no. We actually have a pretty good return rate. Meaning, it's relatively low, nationally speaking. When you compare city population-"

Tea shook her head, flipping back to the fourth year shot. She turned the file to Shondra, "Is this who you met?"

Shondra gazed at the picture and looked at Tea, nodding, "The first time I got …mmm… _introduced..._ to Todd Manning was in solitary confinement. The hole. I was making the rounds, advising people of the prep course, selling it because it was new. That door opened, and...he was on the cot, staring at me like a mad-dog. He didn't have clothes on because the guards took them from him - it's a psychological thing that's meant to make the prisoners feel more helpless." She chuckled. "So can you imagine ME walking in there? A woman, all suited up, all shiny and new? Let me just say this...the guards were watching that boy. I told Manning about the program, commenting on his ...mmm... _decline in decency_ and self-control. Told him that I believed he'd benefit from a program that would help him transition back into society...blah, blah, blah..."

She looked at the picture again, "He jumped me, he moved from this relaxed position to...this...place...his face, his eyes...his damn hair...screaming, choking rage, and Jesus, those guards cut him down. Oh honey, they took him down hard. But he never stopped fighting. The door shut and all I could hear was this horrible anger, killing anger, throwing himself at the walls, and door. I had to ask...what is this? What the hell did THIS prison do to make him like that? That was NOT the same person in the booking photo."

These things were difficult to hear, Tea wishing she'd known about what was happening, wishing she'd been able to help him. On the other hand, living far away from his hell allowed her family to flourish. That was the truth. And even if she'd known...what could she have done?

Tapping the exit picture, Shondra said, "This took a lot of work, Tea. He worked very hard to get back a semblance of who he once was."

"But the letters...he stayed himself for us."

"Sure he did...in writing. In the safety of his cell...high on heroin."

"He was addicted - I'm surprised, and yet...not."

"M-hm. That was part of his last six months. We had to get him off the drugs. Not easy." She laughed softly, "Manning loves that _heron_. He slipped at the end which earned him probation. He's doing good, now?"

Tea gazed at her friend, suddenly realizing that she could not say. Two days ago, she thought she knew him. Today...not so much. Tears suddenly welled and she wiped her face hard. "I have no idea how he is, I have no idea that he doesn't use. I thought...I thought he was good. Now I'm not sure." Tea brought Shondra up to date on Bo's pursuit, Shondra shaking her head.

"I'm not surprised to hear that he's under the microscope," she said.

"Did you know Jessie Horenda?"

Shondra's face tightened, her jaws. "Yes, ma'am. Got killed on my watch."

"Was Todd interrogated or asked about it?"

"'Course he was, and he came out clean. His boys ...mmm... _vouched _for him." Shondra had a look on her face that Tea couldn't interpret.

"These boys..."

"His workers in the library."

"Can you tell me about them?"

"He employed about eight boys throughout his time here, the most vulnerable inmates in the system. Actually, it was one reason I wasn't ever afraid of him - a man who picked those kids out was either a predator or a protector. I believed the latter." Shondra paused, pouring more coffee into her cup.

"You know, when he came at me that first time, he wasn't trying to hurt me, he was insulted by my ridiculous, condescending plan, the nerve that I had walking in his cell when he was at his most vulnerable, to push policy, to promote myself...boy, was I naive. That day he showed me true Statesville policy. He was being treated like an animal, so he was going to act like one."

"Shondra, how did he protect those boys? He had no gang-"

Shondra put her hand up, "Oh no...Manning definitely had a gang. He had several of them in his corner. Very unusual. The Cubans, the Jamaicans, and the Christian Bikers. These are fairly large organizations in the system. For a white guy to be looked after by a span of multi-racial groups...is unheard of. I was fascinated by him from the moment of our first meeting. I walked out of there...'Get me everything you have on this guy. EVERYTHING.'"

Tea pinched the bridge of her nose, the headache blooming into life. She looked up again, "Did you learn why these people watched out for him?"

Shondra shook her head, "No, nothing definitive. Only thing I figured is that he did for them, what he did for me in those last six months." She smiled. "Your husband...was a snitch. And a damn good one. My god, what he knew! I figured that he had these gangs playing against each other...and he was in the middle of all of it."

"But then...why this?" She pointed to that fourth year shot. "If he was so protected, why so many solitary visits, so many fights...why...THIS?"

Shondra took the file and flipped through it, intent on something. Tapping on a sheet, "Because when you hold that much power, people will want to take you down. When you live with animals...you become one."

Tea sighed, glancing at the time. It was near three. Time to go home. One last question.

"Who was Diego Loriz?"

Shondra sighed. Sat back. "One of his workers. Before my time." She got up and went to a large black filing cabinet. "This is my dead file. All the people who ever died in Statesville are here. Loriz is one of them. I've made it my mission to change this trend. " She pulled the file out and put it down in front of Tea.

She opened it and took a breath. A death shot - a small body curled up in the fetal position in his cell, like a child. His mug shots showed him to be another Brandy - this boy could have been her brother. Not just physically, but...emotionally. Broken, abused, destroyed.

This was reason to rage, "How? How is this possible?"

"I know."

The death report said he weighed 85 lbs when he died. No front teeth, top or bottom. Drug overdose killed him, heroin. She studied his picture. Bruised. Scarred. It made her sick. "How could this child be here? It says he was...twenty? This is criminal. He should never have been here."

Shaking her head, the warden sighed. "Convicted for first degree felony drug possession, with intent to sell - the horror of it is that most likely he was a mule. He survived only one year in Statesville. Today...he'd never be in general population."

"What changed?"

"Your husband...in his last six months, when he worked for me, he helped me create a program to put these types of kids into a transitional facility. The Space Between, we called it. The project was what helped turn him around. It's turned out wonderfully. He donates to us, did you know that?"

"No."

"Yes, millions of dollars every year from his foundation." She looked at Tea, "He visits. You didn't know that either, did you?"

"No," Tea sighed. "I'm realizing just how much I've been living under a rock."

"I'm not surprised. He's quite ...mmm... modest. Never feels like anything is enough. I have to shoo him out when he comes. He takes the future of some of these kids very personally. When he's here...I can tell...Statesville is still inside of him. I shoo him away."

"May I have the names of these workers, the boys he protected?"

Shondra flipped through the file and wrote the names down. "Be careful though. Remember, you're learning about a person who ...mmm... was at his lowest point in life. A man forced to become something he isn't. Tea, you're looking in a place that might change how you feel about him. Even now...from what you've seen."

Shondra wasn't wrong. Tea flipped through the records of his visits to solitary confinement. Illegal weapons, violent assaults, injured opponents, drugs...conduct unbecoming. The damage he did to some of these inmates was described in gruesome detail. No wonder he couldn't get parole. And then of course, his own medical records. She saw exactly where he got those scars. She closed the file, shoving it away. Stuffed the list of boys, now men, into her purse without reading.

"Shondra, do you think it's possible Todd killed Jessie Horenda?"

Shondra glanced outside at the inmate in the garden. He'd been sitting for some time, sorting tools and small pots of seedlings. She seemed to be walking in a different place, a different time. Her dark eyes fell on Tea's. "I'm not going to lie to you. When I met your husband, he was a very violent man, very angry...uncivilized, and entrenched in prison politics. Sure, he had to be that way to rise above his low position when he arrived. And yes, he's...rehabilitated today. A special, giving, loving man in his own way..."

She got up and opened the dead file cabinet. She put Loriz's file back. Pulled out Horenda's. Flipped through the pages. She dropped the picture of Horenda's ruined body onto the table. The man's nipple had been cut out, among other parts. The word "bitch" cut deep into the skin. Tea slapped a hand across her mouth. It was one thing to hear the description, it was quite another to SEE it.

Such...LOVE.

"Truth be told," Shondra said. "Yes, I think Manning might have killed Jessie Horenda. That dead body...has your man written all over it. But just as that might be true...I also believe he might have had a damn good reason for doing it."

When Tea returned home, the house was darkened, no lights, no blue glow from the TV, no noise from the kids' toys or games. The children were supposed to be home, they all were. Todd's beloved Porsche was in the garage, the Range Rover, too. Perplexed, slightly worried, Tea opened the front door to the house. She heard her baby, Reese, crying.

"Reese? Where are you, _mijo_? Todd?"

At the top of the stairs, she saw Lucia, standing there like a little ghost, hanging onto the post. "Mami..." Tea walked up the stairs, glancing around, reached for Lucia.

"What's going on, why is the house so dark? Where's your Papi?"

"I put Reese in bed. All by myself. Something is wrong with Papi."

Tea booked it up the rest of the stairs to Lucia, grabbing at her, pulling her into her arms, "Where...where is he, _mija_?"

"In your room."

Racing down the hall, she felt Lucia's hands gripping her like a vice. Tea's heart hammered in fear, believing she knew what was wrong. When she hit the bedroom, she slammed on the light and there on the floor, sure enough, she saw Todd on his side, crumpled awkwardly, evidence that a grand mal seizure felled him.

"Oh god ...oh Lucia … call … call … call 911. You remember how to do that?" She got to him, getting on the floor, relieved as hell when he drew a deep breath. He hadn't had one in two years. She pulled him up onto her lap, pulled back his hair, smoothing it out of his face that still bore the foamy saliva that was typical of these seizures. He was wet with sweat from the extreme exertion his body had gone through, and completely unconscious. The kids must have been terrified. The stress had gotten to him. This had been a very bad one.

Lucia crawled next to Tea and handed her the telephone. Tea gave the information and threw the phone onto the bed. Lucia put her head on Tea's arm. "Is he dead, Mami?"

"No, baby, no...he had a seizure. His brain got hurt a long time ago and...sometimes this happens because of it. They're very scary, I know. But Papi will be fine, I promise. He's going to wake up, but he won't be able to talk for a while. I'm sorry you were here alone."

"Daddy was on the phone. He was mad, Mami. He was sad, too."

"On his cell phone?"

"Yes." Lucia got up and picked it up a few feet away. Tea bent and kissed his forehead. "This is the last thing you need, isn't it?"

Lucia handed her his phone. Tea then looked at the recent calls, figuring it was Bo or George who'd called. When she looked though, she had no idea who the last number belonged to. It was a Llantano county number but from across the river, Greens Meadow. Nice sounding name for the industrial part of the county. He spoke to lots of people...but who would upset him? Only someone close to him.

When she dialed the number, a man answered. Rough voice. She said, "Who is this?"

Silence. Then...

"Naaah...who are YOU, _mamita rica_?"

Latin. Cuban. "Sorry...wrong number." She dropped the phone like it was radioactive. Her eyes flew to her helpless husband in her lap, landing on the snake tattoo on his neck, suddenly noticing letters melted into the outline of the forked tongue and eyes that she never noticed before.

MK.

The cell phone lit up, ringing from that number. She answered it. The voice laughed, a deep voice. In Spanish he said, "Listen, beautiful, you stick to being a mama, a lady lawyer. You do that and we'll take care of the rest. Like we always have."

MK.

The sirens approached...who the hell was Todd talking to? She looked at the time of the last call to THIS number. 45 minutes. He...had called this man. Todd had the number to call. 45 minutes is no wrong number. Tea threw the phone, looking down at Todd. She replayed Shondra's words in her head.

_Todd definitely had a gang. He had several of them in fact watching out for him. Very unusual. The Cubans, the Jamaicans, and the Christian Bikers. _

One name jumped to mind...MK...Cuban...

_These are fairly large organizations in the system...Oh no, no...Todd definitely had a gang..._

The Mambo Kings. MK. One of the biggest, baddest gangs in the state. They had their hands in all sorts of garbage...and now it looked like they had their hands on her husband.

**To be continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Caged** **Chapter 6**

Rules on health: keep spiritually and physically fit.

_Todd worked hard at keeping fit - the reasons are obvious. He ran the track, he played basketball, and he lifted weights. It was in the weight room that he began a "friendship" of sorts with Rolon Lopez, armed robber in the Mambo Kings, and Odell Gordon, drug runner in the Kingston Six, part of Statesville's Jamaican posse. Rolon and Odell were deal makers in Statesville for their two affiliations and because of Todd's illegal access to the internet in the library among other things, Todd had gotten involved in the deal making as well. The three spotted each other when working out, they shared tips, they competed with one another. _

_The first time Todd laughed in Statesville was in the weight room. He was on the bench working his biceps, Rolon across the aisle grunting under a barbell. Odell was doing squats. The three were feeling good having brokered a deal with Los Serranos on getting cell phones to some high ranking inmates. One of the Irish guys in the weight room was being an ass, asking Odell repeatedly where the fuck Jamaica was. _

"_So easy, mon." Odell finally answered, using his hands, exaggerating the directions, the Irish studying the crazy movements. "You walk down dat way, turn to da left, and turn to da right, cross da street, and..." At that moment, he took the weight that was in his hand and smacked the Irish in the side of the head, the guy falling so spectacularly that even the mates of the Irish laughed._

_Odell grinned a side grin and put his hand out to the Irish._

"_Just kidding, mon! No harm, yah?"_

_The guy stormed off, Todd and Rolon laughing hard at the gullibility of the Irish soldier. Todd remembered how good that felt, to just laugh at something stupid. Odell stuck his tongue out, grinning like mad, going back to those squats. From then on, laughter came easier to Todd, the ability to find a little relief in the monotony and hate...a little easier._

_The three were a funny trio, so different from each other, from completely opposite sides within Statesville, but they made things work. They made life more tolerable for each other, and more profitable._

_It was Rolon who saw Todd's first seizure - they'd been walking out back, towards the courts, and Todd had looked at his "friend," his eyes blank, a classic 'nobody-home' gaze. _

_He said, "Where are we?" He licked his lips and rubbed his head. "Mmmm..."_

_Rolon, "Fuck you, where the fuck you think we are?"_

_Deep inside, unable to express it, Todd knew he was in trouble...and he slowly, instinctively, walked around the corner of one of the portable classrooms, to hide himself. There, he leaned against the wall, the world went black, and he had a full-on grand mal. Rolon had followed him, hung back when he saw Todd hit the ground, and watched in a bit of shock as his body jerked hard this way and that. It was harsh. But Rolon knew what it was, didn't run away, and made sure to protect him from prying eyes. Todd had been damn lucky. Nobody really noticed. _

_A half-hour after the convulsions stopped, and Todd had slipped into his dead sleep, Rolon roused him, forcing him up. Rolon walked him real cool-like to the infirmary. Todd couldn't talk and followed like a puppy. The vulnerability of one of the toughest men he knew in Statesville blew Rolon away and he realized the weakness this was, the opportunity to take Todd out which so far had proven near-fuckin' impossible. One easy cut while he was down, a hand over his mouth and nose, and Todd would be dead. No defenses, man._

_But by then, Rolon was his "friend." All the way across the yard, he kept saying to Todd under his breath, "Walk with your head down, man, keep it down, that way they don't see how fucked up you are."_

_Todd collapsed with exhaustion once he hit that infirmary. Slept for twelve hours. The doctor told him the bad news - he definitely had epilepsy from those hits back in Fayetville and the only thing to do was take medication and monitor the seizures. He declined the meds for now - he didn't want that information getting out. Doctor accommodated him by making no reports, seeing the big picture, even though without medication the disorder could get worse. _

_Back in his cell, all that night, he shook with total terror - a major weakness had been revealed to a major gang in Statesville, the Mambo Kings. This was some bad shit._

_Next time he saw Rolon, he thanked him on the sly, trying be cool about it. Like he had it under control, like that shit was never going to happen again. The guy said, "Look, my baby sister has it. That's fucked up and fuckin' dangerous here." He sniffed and looked Todd in the eyes, "You been real good to MK. You never steer us wrong. You deal with me, straight up. You keep being good to us, and I swear on my life, if I'm there, I will make sure nothing happens to you when you go down like that." _

_Todd owed this guy and that was bad. In the real world, this was a sign of friendship. In Statesville, this was endless debt._

_Less than a month later, same thing happened. Todd got real spacey, confused as to where he was. Rolon walked him back to his cell, lights out nearing. Todd crawled into his bunk, kept staring at Rolon with that dead look in his eyes. Shit was about to happen and Todd couldn't do anything about it. Rolon smiled at him, "I got this, _hermano_."_

_Rolon told Brayden to put a sheet up and pretend to "be" with Todd. When the kid objected, Rolon slammed him against the wall, "Fuckin' do it, bitch, or you got me to answer to!"_

_Lots heard that...people around understood that Brayden had to pay some kind of dues to Todd. _

_Just as Brayden tied the sheet to the bars, Rolon stepped outside the cell, throwing looks at observers. CO's ignored this kind of thing, the policy being that rape was part of prison politics and it was always best to just let this shit go down fast. Besides a man post-orgasm is always easier to manage._

_So yeah, the inmates and CO's knew that Brayden was going down, that Todd was finally showing his true colors as a sexual predator. Behind that sheet, Todd went into a seizure and Brayden understood now. He sat on the bed, just watching, scared out of his mind, trying to figure out where the pretending came in. Rolon stood outside with his arms across his chest and a smirk on his face. People got the idea he wanted because of the noise Todd made, his hard breathing, the grunting that was forced out of him by the pull of his muscles, the hard knocking of the cot..._

_When Todd's arm hit Brayden, the kid screamed out. The bruised face completed the illusion._

_Next afternoon, Todd had a new darker reputation. Brayden walking near him had new meaning. Todd saw right away that people stepped out of his way and didn't talk to Brayden. That night, the kid told him that the daily harassment was falling away. _

"_They're leaving me alone, Manning," the kid whispered in the dark. "For the first time in a fuckin' year, I showered and nobody looked at me, nobody started shit with me." _

_From his place below, Todd felt a new threat. Brayden, sandy haired kid sentenced five to ten for vehicular manslaughter after killing a mother of three in a street race with his big truck with big wheels. He could very well let it slip about the epilepsy. Todd's deep, quiet voice carried upwards. "So glad I could help you...by raping you." _

_He then got up from his bunk and dragged the kid down, slamming him to the floor. Before the kid could fight, Todd yanked the kid's shorts down and lay down hard against the kid's ass, pressing his hips against the boy. He made sure the kid felt him, and felt him good. Brayden whimpered against the cold concrete._

_Breathing in the kid's ear, Todd growled, "I don't give a shit...how good Statesville's gotten for you since our little game. But know this, if you talk...I will make Statesville … real fuckin' bad for you." Todd sat up and punched Brayden hard in the head, two, three times, bloodying him, meaning to break him. He then got up, got into his bunk like nothing happened. Brayden took some time to get to his feet, stumbling when he did. He climbed into the upper bunk and sobbed into his pillow, soundless, choking sobs. He finally shut up when Todd kicked the underside of the cot. _

_Brayden never said another word again of thanks. Nope, he understood that his cellmate had a dangerous secret. He also realized if he crossed Todd Manning, he'd be dead in two heart beats...and the guy wouldn't even break a sweat at the killing._

_Once back in his bed, the only thing Todd was thankful for was heroin. Snorted that shit up and flew home to be with Tea and their new baby, Lucia. There, he was a man with a life. With love. In the throes of that high, he cut the letters, LOVE, onto the skin of his left-hand knuckles. Kept the cutting over the next couple of months until the letters wouldn't scab away._

_Did it...so he could remember who he was._

Tea sat across the breakfast table as Todd and the kids ate eggs, drank their orange juice, and munched on bacon. Todd was quiet, seeming to enjoy the kids. Lucia kept feeding him little bites of food, clearly worried about him. She kissed him over and over, asking if was going to faint again. He'd just shake his head, no, no...

There was a certain softness about him that Tea recognized as post-seizure. The last time, he'd recovered fairly quickly - this had been slow. It would take about 48 hours for him to get back to himself. She hadn't yet talked to him about the things she learned in these past days. But she was ready.

He watched the kids run off with the nanny, off to the park for an afternoon in the new snow. Lucia hadn't been sure about leaving Todd, but Tea moved her along, promising she'd take care of her Papi. They gave kisses, they threw on their snow clothes. They disappeared into the beautiful day.

He stayed at the table, picking at the food. Once the children were gone, the house grew quiet again. Tea cleaned the kitchen, getting lost in her difficult thoughts until she felt his eyes on her.

Turning and leaning up against the sink, she asked, "Are you okay?"

He shrugged, "I feel like I'm dreaming. Like I'm high. Am I acting like that?"

Smiling sadly, "No, you're just quiet. More than usual. Your voice is...quiet. You didn't eat much."

"Not hungry."

His cell rang and he looked at it, starting to reach and then letting it go to voice mail.

"Who's that?"

"I don't know." He moved food around some more on his plate. Drank cold black coffee.

"We need to talk," Tea said.

His compliance was what she wanted. He'd answer questions because that was part of the recovery, his defenses being down, altered. He raised his eyes to her, with a pointed lack of expression. The snow outside whitened the room, the sun's light muted.

"Todd, are you in the Mambo King gang?"

He looked down at his food, and absently touched his neck, lightly scratching his skin. "Where were you yesterday? You told me you were going to your office." He shook his head, "You weren't there. You never answered my calls."

She blinked. Wondering whether he even heard her question. "I went to Statesville for research - I talked to Shondra Dixon."

He picked up his phone, glancing at the calls, sighed, drank his coffee. Put the cell back down. "The doctor told me that..." The rest of the thought disintegrated into air and he quirked at that, frustrated. He pushed food around the plate again. "I have to go in for tests, that's what he told me," he said. "This was a bad one. I can't seem to get to myself."

"Aren't you going to ask what I was doing at Statesville?"

Gazed at her again. "Why? I already know...because I know you."

"Good. Then please answer me. Are you MK?"

"MK...Mambo Kings. Hmm. Why?"

"I talked to someone on your phone yesterday. Someone you called and spoke to for 45 minutes. He called me, 'mamita rica.' That's typical Cuban. He warned me to stop poking my nose where it didn't belong. When you were laid out on my lap, for the first time I noticed the letters, MK, in your tattoo...that's Mambo King. Your tattoo...is a black king snake, emphasis on the King. And Shondra Dixon - she suggested that you really did have ties to gangs in prison. Todd, are you part of the Mambo Kings? Please answer the question!"

Todd smiled, this beautiful smile, saying then in the softest voice, "Nice gathering of evidence, esquire. You sound like a d.a."

Tea shook her head, walking across the stone tiles of the kitchen, sitting at the table once again. "Please explain things to me, _amor._ Tell me I'm wrong, tell me my imagination has gone wild. Please."

He stood up and reached for her hand. "Come with me."

"No, not until you explain. Please."

Not budging, shaking his head, he said, "Come with me, Tea Delgado."

The Range Rover fired up and Tea wrapped her coat tighter around herself, colder than the 30 degrees outside. Todd backed the car up, looking at her as she did, the snake tattoo on his neck seemingly bigger, badder, more damning than ever. She bit down on her jaw, saying nothing. Waiting for him to explain. When they hit the bottom of the driveway, she noticed a plain car, a man sitting in it. Just...sitting there.

Todd eyed him and the guy nodded, smiled darkly. Todd flipped him off, murmuring, "Fuckin' cops." Tea watched the man in her side-view mirror until she couldn't see him anymore.

"They're watching us," she said.

"Yeah."

They drove the roads out of the hills, into Llanview, across the river into the industrial section of Greens Meadow. They drove into a nondescript commercial complex that was locked tight. A guard was at front. He smiled at Todd and let him through. He parked in front of an even plainer building that only had a number on it. No business name. No advertising. Nothing. He sat for a moment, rubbing his temples with both hands. "I've a headache - gimme a minute." He closed his eyes and breathed. Seemed to make up his mind and then turned to Tea.

Tea was beginning to lose her patience, needing to get the bottom of the MK mess. "What the hell is this?"

"What do you see?"

"Guards. Locked up place. Is this a drug dealer's place? A place where they cut the drugs?" She was being sassy. Todd chuckled. Cocked his head, raising his eyebrows.

She looked some more, and just couldn't make heads or tails of it. "I give up."

"The Space Between."

Tea nodded, clarity at last. "I see. I wish you'd told me about this place earlier."

"This place...it's too close to Statesville. I don't like that place touching you."

"You know you're Shondra's hero." Tea eyed him without any humor.

He smiled that beautiful smile, laughing at the obvious irony. "Well, her standards are a bit corrupted." He got out of the car and came around, opening the door for Tea. "Come with me."

A half-hour later they were in the visitor's lounge, talking with the director. There wasn't any doubt, this was a prison. But the people here were smaller, younger, more fragile in so many ways. There was a men's section and a women's section. This place cost a fortune to run and clearly was supported by private monies. The director, Francisco Torres, was a tough guy, trained in the New York prison systems but had a Ph.D. in psychology with an emphasis on incarceration. Todd listened to the updates of some build-outs he was helping finance. Torres showed Todd a tremendous amount of respect.

After the meet and greet, Todd and Tea stood at one end of one of the bunkers, behind glass, looking at where the kids slept. Inmates in jeans and tees were sitting on bunks, milling around, and showed a general state of calm.

Todd said in a quiet voice, "In Statesville, these kids would have been eaten alive. Here, they have a chance at getting out whole, maybe even rehabilitated. They'll still be themselves in two to five years rather than be dead, raped, abused or turned into a monster. You can understand that, right?"

Turning to him, Tea said, "You're talking about Diego Loriz."

He side-glanced her, his jaw tightening. "I'm talking about these kids. The ones I knew in Statesville." Even though he was inches away from Tea, she felt that hum in his body starting, saw that twitch in his lip. He turned hard and Tea followed him outside. They got into the car and he rested his head back in the seat.

"You still haven't answered my question, Todd, about MK."

"You ask too many questions. I can't keep them straight."

"I'll ask again. Are you in the Mambo Kings?"

He studied her, his eyes moving from her eyes to her body, up her arms, across her chest. "Do you know that I love you, love our kids? More than my own life?"

"Yes, I do."

"Do you understand that I wouldn't ever do anything...to hurt you?"

Tea hesitated. Looked out the window, truly unable to answer. He touched her shoulder, getting her to look at him again.

"I wouldn't do anything to bring harm to you. Everything I do, have done, has been to protect you."

Looking down, snow beginning to fall again, Tea squeezed shut her eyes, knowing the answer to her question. "Jesus...," she sighed, tears beginning again. She held her head in her hands. "You're killing me."

"I can't defend myself to you, can't defend my...record at Statesville."

Tea reached to him, her own pain...inconsolable. "You left us for five years. You left us. I was confused about why you didn't get parole. I'm not confused anymore. I'm just...angry, hurt...sick. You promised me you'd never use again - you sunk into that garbage...again."

The silence sat in that car like another passenger, like thick mist. He watched the outside, watched the snow fall. He started the car and he drove out of the lot, passing the guard. They didn't speak until they got to the cemetery. Where Brandy was buried under summer's shady trees, but in the winter, the trees were dormant, craggy. They were lonely, crooked trees...and that seemed so much more fitting for Brandy.

"You nearly died for that girl," she said. "For heroin, for the things your father did to you. You nearly died in Statesville. What was it for? For whom did you nearly die?"

He looked at her with such love, that she physically ached. He pulled her to him and held her tightly. She fought him at first, but then softened.

"I want to tell you everything," he said, "...but I don't because I love you, because...I want to protect you from Statesville...and I've said enough, too much already...but I'm thinking that maybe you'll understand, or see things differently, if I tell you about Diego."

Leaning into his body, she could hear his heartbeat. She could feel that hum running through him. "See things differently," she echoed. "Shondra and you both say the same thing. That if I see who you were in Statesville, that I will feel differently about you. But will I hate you, or love you?"

The snow stopped falling but the cold didn't stop, the muted light didn't change. All Tea knew was that they were all in deep, deep trouble. When she looked at him once more, she saw a different man now. She saw clearly the fourth year shot. Shondra was right...she shouldn't have kicked open the door that Bo had merely left ajar.

**To be continued...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Caged** **Chapter 7**

Rule on living with monsters...to beat them, you need to become one.

_Two years into Statesville, despite the odds, Todd Manning had become a powerful man. He knew things, he could accomplish things. Other higher-ups kept a cool distance from him while at the same time depending on him for much needed information. He walked with an attitude, he never backed down from a challenge, and when he fought, he fought dirty and hard. If an inmate got lucky and beat him, Todd would look at that guy with so much hate, and one day later, that "winner" found himself at the end of someone else's shank, dead or wounded._

_Todd was the king of vengeance, a king of low-down snakes..._

_His days were filled with library work and prison politics, his nights doped up and flying out of Statesville, cruising the airwaves to his beloveds. He wrote letters then, wonderful, colorful, peaceful letters. He grew to love his wife and children even more from behind bars than he ever believed he could outside._

_Solitary confinement was still an unfortunate routine for him - he tended to get in the guards' faces too often, tended to show a little too much rebellion, and fought way too much. In fact, more and more, he lost touch with normal conduct. If someone bumped into him, he didn't just accept the apology, he threw them down and beat the shit out of them. Same went for bad looks, inadvertent ball tosses, anything. His language consisted mainly of cursing, threatening, and the hell he'd be raining down on the very next man in his way. He ate fast and showered fast, and he never looked at his own reflection._

_If there was a fight nearby, Todd would sit back in the crowd, taking bets and laughing at the damage. He tried to feel compassion...but simply couldn't. The only space in which he was a person of any decency was when he was high in his bunk, writing and reading letters to and from his beloveds. _

_Deeper and deeper he sunk into his connections with the prison gangs. Some were his enemies, some were his cohorts. Whoever they were, they treated him with care - step on Todd wrong and he had information to end a key person's life. _

_The only thing that kept him alive, was the same reason people wanted him dead: he knew too many useful things. If he got taken out, life at Statesville would become dull and difficult again due to limited trades and limited access to the outside. _

_At the same time, Todd did protect the vulnerables. He "employed" a few younger kids in Statesville that were...delicate, smaller, and usually in high demand for their inability to fight sexual assaults. He used his new-found reputation as an accomplished sexual predator to "fight" others for the right to keep that kid. People usually chose not to fight Todd - it just wasn't worth it._

_But Todd was no saint with these kids. He was mean, and dangerous. They had a tightrope to walk to maintain the connection. The kids knew that if they did not play their role correctly, if they got too...confident, too free, Todd would turn his back on them. _

_It happened to Braydon._

_See, the kid failed to follow through. Didn't act as submissive as he should. One afternoon, he began to get pushed around by the the Irish Dirty Riders in a basketball game. Todd was on the bleachers, watching. He'd been getting increasingly dissatisfied with Brayden's attitude, with his...not acting like a person being raped on a regular basis. He was making Todd look weak. Rolon and some other MK soldiers were sitting next to Todd and watching the tension play out on the court between Brayden and the Irish. _

_Finally, one of the guys pushed Brayden to the ground. The leader looked at Todd, asking permission, because no one takes the property of another without permission, especially Todd's property. Todd eyed Braydon, then gave the requisite nod. _

_So one of the soldiers took the kid, dragging him towards the portable classrooms. Todd watched and did nothing, felt nothing, knowing what was going to happen. See...the kid needed to be reminded what it was like to be without protection. Rolon tsked, "Kid got cocky."_

"_Yup."_

_No surprise, Brayden ended up in the infirmary. When he returned to his cell, damaged and bruised, he was painfully pissed off. Todd was kicking back in his bunk, reading a borrowed book from the library, a classic. The Odyssey. _

_"I'll tell those Aryan bastards about you, motherfucker," Brayden hissed. "You said you'd protect me. Well, fuck, I'm not going to protect YOU anymore. They'll want this information - they'll want to know about your seizures."_

_Todd glanced up from his book. Popped some trail mix into his mouth. And Brayden swallowed a big rock in his throat when he caught sight of this guy's glare. He started to run, but Todd grabbed him, shoved him back inside the cell, and pushed him against the cell door. He put his hand on Brayden's cheeks, squeezing them tight. His eyes moved all around the kid's face, from top to bottom. Then the hand dropped to the kid's throat and slammed the kid into the cell bars, the kid nearly choking for the grip his cellmate had on him._

_Real quietly, Todd said, "Go ahead, bitch. You think they're going to let you live long enough to see if what you say is true? You think they're going to wait around for that 'seizure' to come along?"_

"_It'll be worth it. 'Cause when you're sprawled out on your ass...they will fucking kill you. You won't even know what hit you."_

_Todd laughed, his lip twitching, his breathing sped up. _

"_Why don't we just see about that." Grabbing Brayden by the back of his shirt, he pulled the kid out of the cell, walking hard and fast down the hallway. Inmates were laughing at the sight, mocking Brayden. Todd ended up at the door of a high ranking Blue Aryan. _

_Throwing the kid at the feet of the guy, Todd said, "He isn't behaving. You wanna have a go at him?"_

_Brayden realized that his cellmate had been right. One look at the Aryan and the kid threw himself at Todd, holding his legs, apologizing wetly in utter terror. Todd disentangled himself. The kid crawled closer to him. Todd walked back a few more steps, the kid crawling more, begging._

_The Blue Aryan just shook his head. Said to Todd - you let us know when you want us to take him and we will._

"_Fuckin' crawl, bitch, back to the cell."_

_The boy did. Crawled behind Todd all the way home. Back inside, Todd looked around, and put up that sheet. Beat the hell out of Brayden for his bad attitude. Brayden never stepped out of line again. Did his job. Got Todd's protection. Yeah, Todd maintained control of those kids he was "saving," by being a real bastard. By being a monster._

_That night...he cut the letters again on his knuckles. He was forgetting who he was. He was forgetting._

_Next morning...back to the usual._

_Todd not only got heroin in payment for his information, but also good food, gambling markers, electronic bullshit, clothes, gifts from moms and dads and kids, and information. One afternoon, he received a very special gift for some much needed information. He was on his cot as it was raining outside. Los Serranos, a hard-core Puerto Rican gang, wanted the goods on a rival organization. Todd put a high price on it because it was risky. They couldn't meet the demand. So they brought him something real special._

_He looked up at the knock on his cell door, finding Jessie Horenda standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face. Todd instantly hated the guy. Jessie purred like a fat fuckin' cat, "Hey there, dude. We still want that shit on the Twentieth Century pussies."_

_"I told you the price. You have it?"_

"_No, I got something much better."_

"_And what the fuck-"_

_Jessie turned and said, "Come here, bitch."_

_What showed up was a boy. Diego Loriz. Skinny, dead-eyed, long black hair down to the middle of his back. He was wearing Statesville-issued sweats that were too big and rolled up at the bottom to make them look like a woman's mid-length pants. He wore no shirt. Instead, he had a bra drawn in black pen on his chest, and the word, 'bitch' equally drawn on his belly. _

"_Show him, bitch, show him your mouth."_

_The kid opened his mouth, showing he had no teeth. _

_Horenda smiled, "You know what feels like? He can't bite...he sucks...soft as a woman's pussy. I know you'll like that. 'Cause I like it."_

_Todd was frozen in place, cemented to the bed. This boy couldn't have been more than fourteen but Todd knew that wasn't possible. His blood heated with a kind of rage that beat all. He blinked two, three times. Blood rushed in his head, pounding through his body, churning his insides, hot, unyielding...sickening. _

_Horenda said, "Between you and me...I took those teeth out." He laughed. "Fucked him so hard, his face hit the blocks man...everything fell out. Anything that didn't, I pulled out. He's precious, brother. Like pudding now. Like fucking tapioca pudding!"_

_Todd bit his tongue until he felt the salty taste of blood._

_Diego got pushed in front of Todd._

"_Satisfaction guaranteed, Manning. Give us the information if you like him - I know you will enjoy him. He'll beat out all those other kids you been fucking. Bitch, show him your dick. Do it. Do your thing." _

_The boy did just that - dropped his pants. Started in on himself. Todd couldn't move. He had to breathe...breathe to stay calm, breathed to look like this was normal, like this was all so damn desirable. The boy reached the climax but didn't stop. He was a robot. He'd been so beaten that there wasn't a person in that body anymore. Todd got up and pushed Horenda out, shaking sick with rage, sick with self-control. Horenda was too big, too powerful to simply kill. Todd turned around and calmly put the sheet up, hearing Horenda laughing down the hallway. _

_He turned to the boy who was still at it. Dead...dead...a dead soul, dead eyes. _

"_Stop," Todd said, "Please...stop." The kid wouldn't quit. Todd pushed him, trying to get the kid to stop. The kid didn't. Todd finally grabbed him, pulling him down to the ground, leaning back against the bunk's legs, "Stop...stop...stop..." Todd squeezed the kid to him, holding his head, holding his body so tight, the kid finally gave up. He kept him close, his mouth on that poor kid's head, feeling his heat, the sickness coming up through the kid like a corpse's stench._

_The boy with those dead brown eyes turned his head up to look at Todd and opened his mouth, ready to be used. _

"_No," Todd whispered, no voice able to come out._

_The boy then curled up like a cat in his arms, the kid's lanky legs stretched out on that cold concrete, and fell asleep. Todd was frozen, his brain shaking, shattering, the light of hell burning inside of him. A guard thought it was too quiet and pulled aside the sheet, seeing Todd with this naked kid on the floor. The guard looked a little surprised._

_The only thing Todd could manage was a ragged, "Get him help."_

_When the kid was taken up, Todd was thrown into solitary for conduct unbecoming. His clothes were taken as was the norm. He vomited, over and over, so poisoned he'd been by the combination of hate, rage, and the effort of keeping it all in and not killing Horenda right there on the spot. He took one look at himself in the steel mirror, seeing who he'd become, seeing a distorted, twisted image, a monster. Smashed his head into that metal, until he collapsed, blood running down his face. Sick, sick, sick._

_He vowed to kill Horenda, made a blood oath with himself, if it was the last thing he'd ever do in his life. All hell was about to come down on that motherfucker for what he'd done to an innocent. If Todd had become a monster in Statesville, he was going to use it for the greater fucking good. For Diego. For Brandy. For the child he used to be, the child that had been murdered oh so long ago, on that little bed, with the toy airplane swinging around and around and around, above and beyond his reach..._

Tea listened to the story of Diego. She could imagine, and yet, she couldn't. How could that poor kid have gotten so...trashed... by the Pennsylvania prison system? Todd wasn't present...he was back in Statesville and she could see that fourth year shot in his eyes, in the lines on his face, in the muscles of his jaw. The hate scared her. She almost didn't move for fear he'd think she was someone else. Those defenses shined on him...at the ready.

She said nothing.

"He was in the infirmary for a week. They couldn't fix his teeth - no support from the county for it. And any private money was...weird. Discouraged. Money makes people into targets. They sent him back to gen. pop. I took him on. He was mine. My gift. My whore. I gave the information to...to that bastard, Horenda. People got killed. I found out that Diego got...used...by guards and inmates alike - I never noticed him, never saw him. He fell in between the cracks, getting passed around like a fuckin' 40 and nobody seemed to notice or care. They wanted him to stay like that."

"You...kept him," Tea said in a quiet voice, venturing into his world, like a deer stepping into a gentle lake. Sure enough, he turned suddenly, brought back into the car. He paused...

"Yeah I...I kept him...and I fucking beat the shit out of anyone who even fucking looked at him. My whore, my gift. I'd get him in the morning from his cell and have him with me all day until lights out. I threatened his cellmate with his disgusting life..." He looked down at his trembling hands, shaking his head, a complete show of the deepest misery. "God, he did not understand me, what I was doing."

Todd squeezed shut his eyes, the pain reaching far down into the depth of his being. Barely above a whisper, he said, "He was always offering himself to me - I don't like remembering that - I don't like it..."

He breathed deeply, his expression softening...

"I'd just back away, peel him off of me. Saying over and over the same things that Tim told me when I was in the hospital. That I'd never touch him or hurt him. That I was just his friend. And yet there he'd be...'cause he didn't know anything else. And it confused him. He'd look at me with this..._confusion_. Some days, I was too tired, too broken...I'd just lay in my cot and he'd be on me. Waiting for me to do something. I can still feel his hands, Tea,...pawing at me, touching me...with those dead eyes, with that mouth...open."

Leaning back, he watched the snow again, looking into the distance. These memories had been buried deep.

Todd sighed, "He'd track me with those eyes...around the cell block, in the library, in the yard. He'd watch me get into shit with people. When the guards got in my face, pulling me to solitary, he'd just look down at the ground, not knowing what to do. He didn't understand things around him. Especially now that nobody was abusing him. Life...confused him."

"Who took care of him when...when you went away? To solitary? How did you keep him safe?"

He looked down at his hands, inspecting his palms, instinctively touching the scars on one of his forearms. In a deepened, darker voice, he said, "People knew I'd find out if anyone touched him. People were scared of me...they respected my property. Shit would happen if I learned...that they touched ANY of my property."

Tea shuddered, an involuntary movement. She could imagine this, could imagine him. THIS was not that different than he'd ever been.

"What did he do when you were gone?"

"He'd follow the other kids around. The other kids...who worked for me. Brayden, Smithy, Daryl..."

Tea shot a look at her husband... "Did you say, Smithy? As in Smithy Jackson?"

He nodded, said under his breath, "Yes."

"He was one of the boys you protected? He works for you, he's been in our house...how could you...how is it..."

"I told you...I didn't want any of this to touch you." Todd rubbed his face hard, rubbing his own eyes. Leaned back again, staring out at the snow. It was cold. But he needed the cold. The memories made him hot with hate and unspent anger.

Tea sat back, too, shaking her head, fixing her gaze on the misted window. "Finish your story," she said.

He shrugged, resignation on his face. "It took nearly two months for him to look at me like a person, took two months for him to...wake up. The first time Diego said anything to me was on the bleachers. We were watching a game...and he said, 'am I alive?' I said yes, and he said, 'why?' I said the truth. 'I don't fuckin' know."

Minutes passed, his eyes focused on the steering wheel of the car. "So now you know who Diego Loriz was."

"But he died...you couldn't save him."

"No...," he said. "Four months after I met him, he got real sick. Fever, throwing up, the works. When I got to him in the morning, he couldn't get out of bed. I wanted to call for someone and he just held my arm. Looked at me with those glassy eyes and asked..."

He breathed out a hard breath, his face drawn in pain again, "He asked if he was going to hell and I said, 'there ain't no hell. This is it.' He wanted to know if the men who hurt him were going to hell. 'I guess not,' I said. He then asked if I could send them there."

Todd bit down on his teeth, gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white with tension. He hit it...hit the steering wheel hard with his fist. Growled, "And I said, yes, that I'd do everything I could to send every person who ever hurt him straight to...fucking...hell." He blew out a puff of air, making himself settle. Finishing, finishing...

"He then asked for heroin. Asked how much would kill him and I told him that because he was small, an entire package would kill him. An hour later, I put one of those packages in his hand. He looked at me, and smiled that weird smile of his. Said words to me...I can't say aloud anymore, that I can't fucking FORGET. An hour after that, I got sent to solitary for … some shit... and I never saw him again." Todd pulled back his hair, closing his eyes, rocking his head back. "Diego killed himself because he never could figure out a reason to stay alive. This world..._confused_ him. And I certainly couldn't help _UNconfuse_ him."

He turned to Tea, seeing her face draped in a deep sadness, in utter...total...empathy, horror, disbelief.

"I have to go," he said. "I need to just walk. Go home...take care of our kids. I love you, them...more than anything...know that truth. Know it like you know gravity, like you know the sun comes up every morning...like you know that it sets every night."

He nodded, reached behind the seat and grabbed his coat. Pulled it into his lap.

Tea's voice drew his attention. "You haven't answered the question...are you in the Mambo Kings?"

He held her gaze and reached for her, his fingers running through the brown strands of her soft hair. In a voice cut with the blood of those kids, with the blood of the past, he said, "Yes, MK took me in, Tea. I committed my life to them because without MK, I couldn't kill Horenda, I couldn't torture the people who hurt Diego...I couldn't fulfill my promise to him, and not catch a death penalty. Without MK, I couldn't be the monster that I had to be. Horenda needed to die, those others needed to suffer - you see that, right? Right?"

Tea looked into those dangerous, fourth year, full-of-hate...raging-sea eyes of his. Her face crumpled with the horrific reality into which they had fallen. "Oh god...," she said, aching now. Burdened with much too much..._information_.

He chuckled a little, bitterness choking him... "How you like me now, _mamita rica_? How you like me, now?"

Opening the door, stepping outside, he tossed her the keys. He huddled deep into his long black coat and shut the car door. Gave her one last look through the misty window, nodded, and walked away, walked into the white, into what was left of the muted day. He disappeared into that cemetery with his head down, his hand out, touching the headstones as he passed.

The ghosts were alive and well...thoroughly awakened from their long sleep.

**To be continued...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Caged** **Chapter 8**

Rule on emotions: keep them in check.

_When Diego Loriz died, Todd went into a serious state of grief, and relief. Relieved nobody would ever hurt that boy again, grieving the life Diego never got to live. Todd hadn't been surprised when he emerged from solitary to see that the boy's space in his cell was empty. After all, he'd been the one to give him the drugs to do it. He was just glad it had been enough. _

_For months before and after Diego's death, Todd plotted to kill Horenda. He'd even gotten close to doing it, but had to back off because of witnesses. He suffered from the inability to do it, the desire, the need for vengeance, eating him up and pushing him deeper into heroin addiction and instability. He took his frustrations out on people around him, even the kids. He'd grown meaner, angrier. The boys were afraid of him._

_And he was glad for their fear. The boys remained submissive that way...and safe from violence._

_But he never cried, never showed any emotion regarding Diego._

_One afternoon, the medical clinic called him in for a check-up. When he refused, two guards pulled him out of his cell by force. Once there, he cursed the attendants, spitting mad at being thrown off his routine. He demanded to know why, what...cussing everyone around him. He was finally shoved into a quiet, windowless room, an official time-out room that had an examining table and two chairs. He paced the room like a caged tiger, back and forth, back and forth. There was a camera in the corner, the red light shining on him. He watched it as he paced, finally walking up to it and yelling into the thing...as if, as if. _

_He returned to the pacing...until he ran out of patience and tried to get out the door, but it was locked. He pounded the door, to no avail, but then adjusted to the small space, sitting down at last. Sitting in the corner of the room with his head on his knees, his arms covering his head protectively. A door soon opened and when he looked up, he saw his old friend, Dr. Timothy Graham. _

_The sight of him...broke Todd. Everything inside of him snapped like a weighted branch in the woods. Water welled in his eyes and he watched...a trapped tiger now...as Tim came to him and got down to his level, the doctor's piercing blue eyes, as warm as a hot spring, as compassionate as any Todd had known._

"_Hey, kiddo," the doctor said in his ever-kind voice._

_Tears rolled down Todd's face and he swallowed hard, and shook his head. He simply couldn't talk, he couldn't...talk._

_Tim put a hand on his arm, "It's okay." And when he said that, Todd pulled him closer, pulling him hard so that Tim lost his balance and smacked his hand against the wall to steady himself. He could feel Todd's body shaking, could feel the fear. Todd kissed the doctor's face wetly, gave him hard kisses on his mouth, pressing his own face into the doctor's own muscular chest. After these minutes of madness though, Todd pushed him away, a violent push. Turned into the wall, hiding from his friend. Wishing to disappear. But soon he pulled himself together, standing up shakily. _

"_Don't tell me it's okay ... you don't _know_ anything, Superman … I'm in hell, this is hell. Nothing is okay!"_

_Tim flinched at the old term, Superman, taking in the sight of Todd. His body had changed, had grown stronger, leaner. His hair was unkempt, clumpy...because it was too long for prison. No time for gentle grooming. His face reflected that same leanness, his features harder, crueler. And in his eyes, the darkest, most profound change. Tim saw a madness there that he hadn't seen since he first met Todd, and a level of hate that he'd never seen._

"_What can I do, Todd, what can I do to help you?"_

_He laughed bitterly, "DO? You can't DO anything. I'm where I'm supposed to be. Paying my dues...being who I was born to be."_

"_No, this isn't you. You are a good person, a loving person. Someone who deserves life and love."_

"_Oh fuck you, Graham. Fuck YOU." He pushed Tim and Tim hit the wall hard, well remembering how strong Todd could be when incensed. The doctor stood flush against the cool wall painted white, patient, patient..._

_Across from him, Todd looked his doctor up and down, taking in the delicious, painfully wonderful sight of his friend. The blond curls that went into all directions, the hefty build, the powerful calm he gave off. Todd worked not to fall to pieces at this amazing sight before him. He worked not to fall at Tim's feet and beg to be taken home, bang his head against the floor until blackness came, cry until not a drop of life remained in his body. He fought a war in his heart and mind between staying alive and not. Between continuing on and taking in enough dope to kill him. _

_A sound came from deep in his throat, the sound of his emotions fighting within. A battle between weakness and rage, and a desperate love for someone good and kind to him._

_Tim heard it and it showed on his face, his features crumpling with obvious sympathetic pain. He remained ready for anything that Todd might do. He'd specifically told the guards to leave them, to only come in if Todd made a true assault. To wait as long as humanly possible no matter the policy._

_Finally, the war inside ebbed and Todd began to let down a little, his voice softening. "Go away, Tim. Don't look at me like that."_

"_I'm not looking at you in any way. I'm just here. For you."_

"_For what?"_

"_To let you know that you're still loved, that you'll always be loved. To listen. To be available. That's it. I can be here once a week, to help you through this."_

"_Why now?"_

"_Bo Buchanan called me - told me things weren't as nice as your letters made things appear."_

_Todd sat on one of the chairs, Tim then asking, "Can I sit, too?"_

"_Sit...stand, whatever."_

_Tim pulled out the chair and sat across the table. Todd's eyes remained downwardly focused. He seemed tired. Tears welled again in his eyes, rolling heavily down his cheeks. _

_In a voice, Tim could hardly hear, Todd said, "I'm using again. I can't stop. It's the only time I feel good. That's when I write my letters usually. When I'm fucked up...and the world is beautiful."_

"_I'm not surprised. Be careful, kiddo. Just...try to maintain. Stay safe when you're using. Don't use needles. Please, please don't mainline."_

_Todd chuckled through those tears, "Don't worry...pure powder..."_

_Tim sighed, keeping the judgment at bay, trying not to chastise him even though he wanted to. "I tried many times to see you - you always turned me down. I got them to allow this, under a medical evaluation privilege."_

"_Clever you," Todd sighed. _

_The two sat for over two hours, talking quietly, mainly about daily life, Tea, the kids...about the fact that Todd just got denied parole. He just about finished the third year...and now was heading into four. He didn't, couldn't, talk about Diego and his death. Didn't, couldn't, talk about his endless, mind-numbing hate he had for the world, for Horenda, that ran black and cold through his heroin-laced veins. _

_Soon, though, the talking stopped and Todd pushed away from the table, standing with his head turned away from his friend. Todd could not look at him anymore. _

"_Please, Superman...don't come back. It hurts too much. I can't take this pain. It's killing me."_

_He turned, his fist banging the door, his forehead pressed tightly against the wood. "Please open the door," he said softly. "Please, please...I'll be good...just open the door...please..."_

_The door opened and a guard nodded at the doctor, the door shutting with Todd on the other side now, in for another two years, if he'd survive at all._

_Tim pinched the bridge of his nose and cried his own painful, aching tears for the boy HE could not save._

* * *

><p>The Llanview Police Department hopped as usual, booking suspects, interrogating witnesses, analyzing evidence. Bo Buchanan sat at his hefty desk, the table top loaded with paperwork, flipping through hard-copies of Todd Manning's Statesville file. The evaluations were what interested Bo - the other stuff merely repeated old news. All throughout Manning's sentence, Bo had visited him, had watched the decline, had gotten a sense of what the kid had gone through. The warden at the time was a real hard-ass, and ran a corrupt ship. Bo had tried to clean up the place, but he just didn't have the power. He knew that the kid was at war inside and there was very little to be done about it.<p>

When Bo visited, Manning tried real hard to be...human, tried to tell him things were okay, telling him he was writing to Tea and the family, assuring him that he was taking care of himself despite what he looked like, but sometimes the cover-up was impossible.

On those days, Manning would saunter into the visitor's room with a dusty scowl on his face, with that permanent limp that gave him a natural gangster walk, and not say a word. He'd plop down on the chair and just stare at the table, simmering like a boiling pot of muddy water. Two minutes later, he'd shove away and Bo wouldn't see him for a long while, getting denied when Bo would request time. It had been rough...Bo knew that.

Sighing, he shook his head. But now...it was time to pay the piper.

He tapped the evaluation of Manning's third year, the first parole eval, the eval that said Manning was unfit to be released into society. "In sum, Todd Manning shows no remorse for his actions that led to the guilty plea, and his conduct at Statesville is consistently deplorable. Manning refuses to comply with simple rules, repeatedly possesses contraband, refuses to disengage from physical confrontation, and..." the worst part, the most condemning part in Bo's eyes, "he is increasingly socializing and associating with known gang members throughout Statesville. Parole is not recommended." On the top is the follow-up: a large red stamp saying, "Denied."

God damn it.

Bo flipped through the black and white copies of Manning's tattoo shots...the new ones. The ink he got in prison. Recently, the L.A. Times published a story about how a gang member in Santa Ana, California, essentially confessed to murder in a colorful tattoo across his chest. The guy got real stupidly precise with the details. Bo wondered if Manning bore a similar confession in his tattoos...but he knew better. Manning was way too clever to lay out a murder on skin.

On the other hand, prison gangs ask for loyalty, and soldiers show that by getting inked up. Manning wouldn't be exempt from that.

Henry knocked on the door, Bo's focus getting interrupted.

"Hey, Henry. Anything on the gangs and Horenda?"

"No, sir...reviewed Horenda's file with a fine-tooth comb. Knocked on doors, interviewed old acquaintances in and out of jail. No indicators that it was anyone else other than the Irish and even that is circumstantial at best - no specific person is getting highlighted. Of course, absolutely nothing connects Horenda's murder to Todd Manning. Those alibis are tight. We're still bringing in the inmates though...the ones that gave him cover. One of them is still in prison."

"Really? Who's protecting him? Manning's not around."

Henry shook his head, a little sadly, "That kid...Royce Jimenez, doesn't need protecting. Well schooled, now. He associates with the Mambo Kings. He's gotten quite a record at Statesville."

"Hmm...interesting. Well, good, Henry...yeah, they need to be talked at about those alibis."

Henry ventured a question, "Do YOU have anything connecting Manning to the Irish, in his file?"

"Well, he was a real malcontent, had a few fights with the Irish...with the Aryans...pretty sure we can rule out all the white supremacists as his buddies. He really seemed to have a special hate for those guys...starting on his first day there." Bo rolled his eyes, "But the truth is, he fought with just about everyone at Statesville, so all that means nothing. I'm going to get these prison tattoo shots analyzed downstairs. See if any of them are gang related. He did associate with gang members, not fighting...but the record is silent on the specifics - no names."

"Nothing you recognize in the tattoos, then."

"Not really...got his kids' names, a snake up his neck, barbed wire around his biceps, and...a chained spider on his chest. Those are the new ones he got in prison."

"Nice. Real friendly-like."

Bo chuckled, "Men express their feelings in many ways, Henry. By the way, how's the surveillance coming along? Anything happening? He contacted anybody...interesting?"

"Does a visit to the Space Between count?"

"Nope, he goes there on a regular basis."

"With his wife?"

"Hmmm..." Bo nodded, looking at Henry. "That IS interesting. No, he doesn't go with her. Ever. If I know Manning...that sounds like confession time. What else has he done?"

"Well...he was at the hospital..."

"Why?"

"Epileptic seizure."

Bo nodded, a thread of sadness in the movement, "Hm. That's too bad. Thought he had that under control. Anyway, what else?"

"Visited the cemetery...and then our guys lost him."

"Lost him? Are you serious?"

Henry shook his head, "Wish I was kidding, sir. The detectives didn't realize he left the car at some point. They continued to follow their BMW but when his wife got home, she was alone."

"Awww...damn." Bo leaned back... "That's Manning for you. He's slippery...like a snake. He knows we're watching. Get that surveillance team back on track."

Henry turned on his heels and disappeared back into the hustle of the department. Bo looked at the tattoo shots again, looked at the snake and the spider. Turned them around and around, trying to see through the images. Shook his head. Just not able to decode them. Yet.

"These mean something, Manning...and I'm gonna figure it out. I promise you."

* * *

><p>When Todd pushed open the front door to Pedro Moreno's Havana Restaurant, and let it close quietly behind him, the no-more-than-19 hostess, Leya Moreno, with her beautiful face, long dark hair and sultry dark eyes, nodded at him and pointed to the hallway at the rear of the restaurant. Leya watched as this familiar stranger made his way towards her, his unique walk like that of a panther. He wore a long woolen black coat wet with the last of the day's wind-pushed snow, the front unbuttoned, showing fine black jeans, an Armani leather belt, an Armani grey knit shirt, and well-worn black leather boots. He eyed the customers with a steely gaze and as always, his observers looked away quickly.<p>

But when he landed on Leya, she locked eyes with him to see how long he'd look at her, counting the seconds before he'd take in the curves of her body in her tight black slacks, and her tight silk blouse. He'd increased the time over the past year from one second to an entire five seconds. Tonight she counted to seven, then like a hungry cat, he licked his lips and, with his eyes, slid down and up her slender body, giving her a thrill that she knew was wrong, that her father, Pedro, would kill her for, would probably kill the stranger for.

She stuck her hip out, trying hard to look 30 and sexy and experienced. When the stranger looked at her once more, he shook his head...and murmured as he walked past her, "You're going to get burned, little girl." She chuckled, in a state of shock that this stranger had actually spoken to her...finding his voice even more thrilling than she imagined.

The Cuban restaurant on its surface looked ordinary, harmless. Located at the edge of Llanview, near the port district, the place boasted artwork _Cubano _on the walls, tables with tile tops, wooden seats, and salsa music floating throughout the rooms. Families ate at the front tables and booths, little heads chirping, mamas feeding them, papas disciplining the older kids. The varied scents of _platanos, ropa vieja, arroz a la chorrera, _and an array of fish carried outside. The Havana restaurant buzzed this evening, with a quiet undertow hum that told its dark visitor the rogue branch of the Mambo Kings were in the back room.

He stalked the hallway behind the main dining room and there at the end was the banquet room that had never held a banquet. Through the windows on the French doors, Todd saw the rogues, his people, the men to whom he remained forever indebted. Today, though, he wasn't feeling very loyal.

When he opened the door, Rolon Lopez turned from the steak on his plate and nodded to _El Diablo Blanco, _the white devil, the only non-Cuban in the gang. He'd earned his stripes the hard way, through proven loyalty in Statesville, and they earned his loyalty the same way - by always doing right by him. The other men in the room nodded their acknowledgments to Todd who returned their looks with typical coolness. Except for Rolon...Todd eyed him hard. Rolon smirked and resumed eating the steak.

A waitress cleared a space at the main table and asked what he wanted to eat, to which he told her, just bring him his usual. He sat tiredly, shrugging off his coat, the other men knowing right away that he wasn't in a talking mood. They continued their low conversation, ate their food, and drank their liquor. There were about eight men there, differing ages, different levels of life experience, different levels of criminality. The oldest, though, nearing 60, was Pedro Moreno, owner of the restaurant, father to Leya, and their leader, so to speak. He kept a sharp eye on Todd, concerned, curious, about his favorite information provider's obvious distress.

The waitress returned and placed in front of Todd, a short glass with ice and a bottle of good-ole American Jack Daniels. The rest of the men drank Cuban rum. He glanced up at her and she shrugged, calling him his earned nickname, "Today, I'm busy, _Blanco_, and I can tell you need more than one glass." The men laughed at her cleverness and one of them smacked her butt as she walked away. She wagged her finger at Julian, the younger man who had a taste for her.

Todd poured the drink, sucking it down like water. He poured again, drank a little, sighed and sat back in the seat, his hand on the glass. Turning it, watching the ice melt. A few minutes later, the same waitress put a plate in front of him of his usual _arroz con pollo_. He picked at the food...pushed it away, changing his mind about eating. Drank the rest of the scotch instead. Pouring yet another glass, filling it higher than two fingers.

Across from him, Rolon chuckled. "Bad day, Manning?"

"You could say that."

The room quieted and Pedro cleared his throat, Todd not looking at him despite the obvious prod. Rolon looked at Pedro and the older man then spoke up, "Manning..._que pasó_?"

"Ask Rolon."

Pedro looked weary when he turned to Rolon, who in turn laughed a little, "Pedro, _El Diablo...mi amigo muy Blanco, _is angry because I spoke to his wife." All eyes were on Rolon and Todd. It had long been established that Todd's...membership...included a no-contact clause.

"What can I say," Rolon hissed, "She was being a nosy bitch, answering his phone."

The room really quieted and Todd now raised his eyes to Rolon, "The fuck did you say?"

"She...is...a nosy..._bitch._"

All hell broke loose at that, Todd literally flying across the table, his mean right-hook smashing down on his friend's face, over and over, that cunning, dirty fighter coming out to play. Of course, Rolon was more than a match for Todd, returning the hits, Rolon able to get on top of Todd and smash his head against the hard floor. The other men in the room had to work hard to separate them and by the time they did, they were both bloody, and breathing hard like pit-bulls in a dogfight, cussing a storm at each other despite the space between them, now. The waitress had come running to see what was up, but turned at the sight.

Pedro all the while had sat back and watched. Finally, when the fury wouldn't quit, he slammed a fist against the table and shouted in Spanish for them to sit down, "_Siéntense, maricones_!"

The two turned, quieting at that, Pedro growling, "We have children in this restaurant, you sons of bitches. This isn't a fucking prison yard."

Todd broke away from the others, grabbing a chair and plopping down on it. Sat up a little and grabbed the bottle of scotch. Swigged it and pointed it at Rolon, blood running from his temple to his mouth,"You fuckin' talk like that about her again, and I promise you...you will fuckin' pay. This ain't nothin'..."

"Suck my big fat dick, bitch." Rolon groused.

"Suck MINE, motherfucker...come on...right fuckin' here..."

"_Basta_!" Pedro said once again.

Pedro wanted the story and after a moment, Todd recounted the contacts Rolon had made with Tea, not to mention the fact that he learned someone from MK had been following her, certainly at Rolon's request. The old man shook his head, "Rolon? Why?"

"Because the Llanview dicks have been knocking on MK doors, asking about that Jessie Horenda, the Irish...fuckin' bullshit! And now his wife, that New-yo-rican _puta._..she's hot after us, too! She's gonna fuck us over, man."

That got Todd going again and he jumped up, getting Rolon to his feet, too, but the others were quick and held him back, held both of them in their respective corners.

Pedro got up at that and walked to Todd, got a hold of his shoulder, squeezing it to the point where Todd cringing with the pain, until he put his hands up, saying in Spanish, "_Basta...basta..._I'll stop...I'm sorry..."

"This is a family restaurant and you have lost control."

Todd looked at the man who'd become a kind of...mentor...twisted that it was. Pedro put his hand on Todd's cheek, slapping it a little, "You're not in Statesville, _Blanco_. Remember that." Pedro turned to Rolon, pointing his finger at him, "Same goes for you. This is a family restaurant!"

Todd shook off the men holding him back, straightened his clothes. Nodded a subtle apology. He wiped the blood off his face, licking the side of mouth.

Pedro Moreno had lived a hard life and the lines on his face showed it. He'd come across the water on a boat with his parents before making his money in the gangs. He'd have probably died a street thug, but he had a knack for business. He was in the laundry business and not the dry-cleaning kind. Over the years, the fake businesses had actually turned productive. He was able to support his large family now on clean money.

"He's touching my family," Todd grumbled to Pedro, "I can't abide by that. You know that..."

"I know. And it's going to stop. NOW." The man looked at Rolon. "_Oye, maricon, _you got my attention."

Rolon shook his head, breathed in deep. Nodded in agreement to stop the contact. Looked at Todd. "Look, I'm sorry, _hermano._ Just...shit's heating up and I'm not liking it. Pedro, we got business here and we don't need the LPD lookin' at us."

"I agree," the old man said. "Manning, what can we do? What do they want?"

"I don't know...they want me. Some shit between Los Serranos and the Irish Riders - the Commissioner thinks I'm connected. All of a sudden they noticed this fuckin' dead...motherfucker."

"Hmmm..."

"I can't go back there, Pedro...I can't do that to my family. I've done enough..." He didn't share that he'd revealed so much already to Tea, that maybe...she'd be leaving him. That his attachment to MK might very well kill her love for him up, down, sideways. Well, that and the fact that he's a killer. He looked at the ground, sitting hard on the seat. Rolon followed suit...the rest of the men returning to their places, now that calm seemed to have returned.

One of the men, Elian, spoke up, offering a hard truth, "Maybe...Manning ought to take credit. Give himself up for MK. Take the heat off us if we get fingered."

Pedro didn't like that...fact was, he cared for the white bastard son of MK. He shook his head, his voice deep and serious, "Elian, Manning pays his dues to MK, has paid. More than you. Many times over...more than you. Maybe you ought to take credit." The young man shoved food in his mouth, getting hassled now by some of the others.

"Manning," Pedro asked, "...what are they saying about Los Serranos?"

Todd told Pedro the situation, about the innocents getting killed. That the gang war had really gotten bad. "LPD is tying it to Horenda...as some sort of zero victim or something."

"You know everything, Manning," Pedro laughed. "Is the war connected to Horenda?"

"I don't know. My contacts haven't given me shit on it. I'm out." In a quieter voice, he added, "That kill was clean..."

Rolon nodded, "You got that right. He was a real motherfucker and he paid for what he did to those kids."

The two men looked at each other for a moment, Todd then gritting his teeth, suddenly remembering how much he hated his old friend right now, his _brother_, for daring to talk to his beloved, for talking shit about her.

Sighing thoughtfully, Pedro returned to his dinner, the rest of the men doing the same. Even Rolon and Todd began eating. Drinking. Smoking Cuban cigars. They had thinking to do...plans to make. Business to protect. Throughout, Todd was quiet, taking in the sight of this..."family."

Tea had no idea that despite the criminal element he could not avoid, Pedro had become the only father he knew. That other than Viki and Tea...the Mambo Kings had become the only family he knew. He could not describe what it felt like to finally have people in Statesville. He could not describe the rush of power he felt when they inked him inside, the letters MK buried in the snake's head...and in the heart of the chained spider.

They had made these concessions for him...they broke tradition...they gave him his own unique color because he was different, being non-Cuban, and because he had to maintain neutrality to get information. If he was obvious with his MK affiliation, he'd be crippled, and likewise, so would MK's advancement in Statesville, as well as outside.

When Todd went to Rolon in Statesville and asked for help in killing Horenda...and MK had let him in...Pedro had been on the outside all along, waiting for this new son to come home. When Pedro met Todd the first time, the old man had put his hand on Todd's head, vowing a kind of loyalty that Todd had never known from another man. Pedro gave MK to Todd just as much as Todd had given himself to MK.

_Vengeance, bitches...vengeance._

Since then, Pedro introduced him to the vast business network of the Mambo Kings, both legal and illegal, all in exchange for Todd's ever-reliable _information. _And Todd paid...the information he gave was key to MK's maintaining a top position not only in Llanview, but throughout the state...and even further than that. Like a spider's web...MK had grown due to Todd's help.

But Pedro turned to Todd for something else. Something no other MK member knew. Pedro wanted legitimacy. He wanted his rogue branch to get out of the dirty business world entirely. Pedro had children, a wife. Not a single one of his kids was in MK and he wanted to keep it that way. One drunken night with Todd, he confessed this dream. Since then, Todd had been helping him divest from illegality. Only a small ways away...but breaking free from the larger MK gang was going to be tough.

The night finally drew to a close, nearing midnight. Way later than Todd's usual stay. Pedro bid goodnight to Rolon, and a few other stragglers in the back room. Todd remained at the table, sipping top Cuban rum out of a large glass. No ice, just straight up. The restaurant was still hopping, salsa music playing, locals dancing, drinking...

Pedro appreciated the quiet of the back room. He tilted his gray head, rubbed his thick moustache. "_Oye_, Manning. You okay to drive? Don't give the cops another reason to talk to you."

"They'll come back anyway...and for the record, I'm not driving. I walked here."

"Hmm. Your wife kick you out? You need a place to sleep?"

Todd looked at his friend, shook his head. "Not yet. I'll get a cab home...and my wife? She's not happy." He looked up at Pedro. "She knows now, about MK."

The old man sighed, knowing how hard Todd had worked to keep this from her. "Maybe it's better. Honesty is always better in a marriage."

Todd chuckled, "Pedro...come on...there's honesty...and then there's my fuckin' life."

"Hm." Pedro drank the rum. Letting the drink linger in his mouth. Thought of his life. His precious youngest daughter, Leya. "I understand, Manning. I understand."

Todd got up, swaying a little, looked at Pedro. "I'm sorry for bringing attention to you, and the rest of MK. I'm sorry."

"No sorry needed. You've been good to us, to me, especially. I'll do what I can. I'll look around, listen." Pedro looked up at Todd, "I think of you...like my son." He laughed a little, shrugged, "My bastard son...sometimes those sons are even more...precious. You have proven yourself in ways beyond anyone here in this room, more than anyone in the Mambo Kings. You have my loyalty, Manning. I promise you, _yo te prometo._"

"Thank you, Pedro. And...be careful...those Serranos, the Irish..."

Pedro laughed deeply, getting to his feet, "Manning, I've been in this game a long time...longer than you've been alive. Don't worry about me."

"Just saying..."

Todd said his goodbyes and wandered down the hall, seeing Leya at the end of the hallway. Inside he laughed, knowing her little game with him. Knowing how he must look to her. She reminded him of Starr, Jedediah...Tea. She had edge, excited by danger. He looked down at the floor as he walked. Thinking, hoping, Leya had disappeared to a place of safety. She really was going to get hurt by someone like him...he truly understood Pedro's urgency to get out of the MK.

When he hit the end of the hall, right before it opened up onto the main room, the music got loud, the voices and laughter louder, and Leya was still there, right in front of him. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes, ready to take a leap into the unknown. He stood looking down at her, "No, little girl...this isn't what you want."

"I'm not scared of you. I can take what you have to give." She'd unbuttoned buttons on her blouse, showing off her cleavage. She'd taken off her bra so he could see more...This girl prepared. She'd planned. She pressed against his body, looking up him, her innocence cutting him to the core. She reached up, running her fingers along the scar on his cheek. He closed his eyes momentarily, absorbing that sweet touch, thinking not of sex, but Lucia, her small hand on him that morning, mothering him, worried.

"You should be scared," he said thickly, returning his gaze to her own.

She put her head back, her shoulders back. She ran her hand down his chest, hooking her fingers on his belt buckle, keeping her eyes on his. God, she reminded him of Tea. He could easily imagine his wife at her age. This girl...was headed for trouble, and he was going to help her see that.

Dropping his gaze down to her breasts, he saw her breathing speed up. Looking beyond her, looking behind him, seeing nobody eying them, he locked eyes with her again, his hands delicately on hers. He pushed her backwards, a slow dance of sorts, pushed her back until she was at the wall and they were hidden in the shadows. She raised her knee, rubbing his thigh, her high heel shoe knocking behind her. He tipped his head, looking at her pose, seeing her as seductive as a whore...

He grinned a little, having trapped her, a small bird...to his hungry cat. The music thumped a heavy bass now and it reverberated throughout their bodies, along the wall. He touched the edge of her blouse, the tips of his fingers grazing her skin, all along the fullness of her breasts. She caught her breath. Her nipples popped and he could see them through the light-colored blouse. He pulled the silk away a little, exposing her hard, puckered brown nipple. He looked at it, the sweetness of it, and he looked back up at her.

She was trembling, like a delicate flower in a breeze. "Touch me," she breathed.

"Yeah?"

"Yes..."

She pulled the blouse lower and he accommodated her, pinching her abruptly, a shock of pain she didn't expect, making her gasp. She could not see the twitch of anger in his face...she could not hear the low vibration of fury in his voice. He caressed the fullness under her nipple, his thumb soothing the hurt, and she closed her eyes in sheer ecstasy.

"You like this, _preciosa?" _

The girl shivered under his touch, biting her lip, nodding, her chest rising and falling with her little breaths, "Yes..._Blanco."_

"How do you know my name?"

"I heard the other girls...they call you that."

She wanted him, and it killed him. Killed him how easy it would be to hurt her. In her own father's restaurant.

He moved his hand slowly up her chest, and put it around her slender throat, her widened eyes slamming to his. Unsure now. He squeezed...just enough. Her mouth parted...her breath stopped...she held his wrist with child-like hands, as if she could stop him. _As if._ He pressed her against the wall, pushing her hard, pinning her by the throat.

"My other name is, _El Diablo..."_

A tear rolled down her face now, her shaking no longer sexual. He shoved his knee in between her legs, and lifted her off her feet, just barely, her shoes knocking against the wall. She struggled a little in his grip, her eyes moistening, her little hands...pressing, pressing his arm.

_As if._

"Do you know what I was in prison for, _mamita_?"

"No..."

He leaned down, pulling her close to him by her delicate throat, small bones under his fingers, and whispered hotly in her ear, "I raped little girls just like you. I broke them." When he stood straight again, releasing her, she slipped, nearly falling, spent with fear. He caught her, righted her. Carefully buttoned her blouse. Growled like an angry bear, "Run away from my kind, Leya...and don't ever look back. Others...won't be as _nice _to you as _I _have been."

Leya swallowed hard, tears running now at the sight of her father standing in the hallway. She shook harder, now, obviously now. Todd turned to him, shook his head, and walked out of the restaurant.

Pedro clenched his jaw. "Get to my office, Leyita. You and I are going to have a _talk_."

* * *

><p>The Manning house was dark at two in the morning. Todd walked up the stairs to his bedroom, seeing Tea asleep. He opened the heavy curtains just enough, so the moon shone down on Tea's hair, her face perfectly at peace. He watched her until the moon's light faded and the blue of the coming morning filled the room. He stood finally, undressing, and climbing into bed. He was afraid to touch her. Afraid of what the morning would bring. Tea stirred at the feel of him moving under the sheets. She turned and faced him.<p>

"I'm not angry at you," she said. "But I am afraid of you. Afraid of what you've brought to us."

"I told you."

She grabbed him by his hair, pulling him to her. "I will kill you if anything ever happens to our children."

"Nothing will."

"I will kill you if I see those people near us."

"They won't come to you again. You won't see them."

"You smell like cigars. And whiskey. You were with them."

He said nothing.

"You will not touch me...until you're away from them."

"Tea..."

"That hurts doesn't it? Because it's impossible...isn't it? You will never be away from them. They will never let you go as long as you're alive."

He put his arms around her, forcing her beneath him, forcing himself in between her legs. She fought him at first, but then gave in. She rocked her head back, turning away from him, feeling his hardness now. She lifted her knees and he pushed into her, thrusting hard, making her groan. She could never say no to him because she was as sick as he was, she would always be as sick as him.

He would always be her heroin and she had yet to shed the addiction.

"I don't love you anymore," she said, her voice strained.

He moved, touching her breasts now, her ass. He sucked hard on her neck, marking her on purpose, making her feel him. He pushed into her harder, faster, and Tea cried at their impossible, maddening situation. Shaking her head, her arms flung upwards in a show of capitulation. He groaned without pleasure, his mouth still tight on her neck. He lifted up and put his hand on her face, making her look at him.

"And just like they won't let go of me...I won't let go of you. I will never let go of you. You WILL have to kill me first."

Tea turned away again, just as he fell on her heavily, his movements bringing her to the brink, her legs wrapped around him. His mouth found her nipples and he sucked hard on them, one first, then the other. She pulled his hair to make him stop. He then rolled her on top of him, and she sat up, moving her hips, her head thrown back, her hands on his chest.

"Damn you, Todd...damn you."

She rocked her body, grinding hard on him until she cried out, an orgasm overtaking her. He flipped her over at that, spurred on by her sweet noise, flipped her onto her stomach and thrust into her, forcing a choking cry out of her precious throat. His hard hands pressed on her back, pressed on the back of her neck, so she could not move, so he could push deep into her restrained body, until it hurt, until she moaned in pleasurable pain, until she felt him finish, him being quiet...quiet...

He fell onto her at the end, lying on her back heavily, breathing hard, spent. He petted her, touched her skin, her arms, pulling her close, tight to him.

"I love you," he whispered. "I will love you all my life even if you don't. Even if you hate me with every fiber of your soul until the end of fucking time..."

She reached back and touched his face, his dampened hair, feeling him so close to her, feeling his heat. She let his words float in the night air...all by themselves, her voice gone, her heart cracked into a million pieces...

...like a mirror smashed against the cold concrete of a prison floor.

**To be continued...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Caged** **Chapter 9**

Rule on drugs and addiction: don't...because kicking drugs in prison is its own circle of hell.

_The death of Diego affected Todd in a couple of ways. First off, he became obsessed about how to kill Jessie Horenda and that made him a very unpleasant person to deal with. He kept getting slammed by the guards, and getting in scuffles with fellow inmates. Secondly, his mild addiction to heroin that he'd been caught for several times over, went into overdrive. He was slinging information like the fucking peanut man at a baseball game and he was getting dope flung right back at him. Good, top...dope._

_Every night he'd snort that shit up and knock right out, flying fast and furious to his beloveds. That's what got him his first experience with kicking heroin in solitary confinement. Third year end and he was hooked hard. Woke up with pinned eyes and an inability to answer questions, and the guards caught it right away._

_Threw him into medical, and made him pee in a cup. Tested positive for the _heron _for the sixth time. He figured he'd get put into the usual group for addiction. They usually just tsk-tsk'ed him and sent him on his way because there wasn't any way to stop the drugs in prison._

_This time, they threw him into solitary. Told him he wasn't coming out for a few days._

"_How long? Why? Why you doing this, you mother fucker? WHY?"_

_The door slammed shut. They didn't take away his clothes this time, and it struck him as a little odd. He stood there in the quiet room, saying to himself that he could take this...a couple of days...no sweat. Cakewalk. He wasn't hooked, yeah?_

_Twelve hours later he was puking his brains out, and crying himself a river of misery. The shaking, stomach cramps, muscle cramps took over. He screamed for help, screamed to let him out...but the guards did nothing. He knew it was pointless. They were punishing him, and punishing him good. They weren't going to let him out until he was done kicking, no less than seven days._

_In the midst of the nightmare, he decided that he wasn't going to give them the pleasure of it, so he shut up. Tossing and turning on that hard cot, agonizing in complete and total quiet. He stripped his clothes, then put them on, then stripped them...his body's heat control on the total blink. He cried like a baby...in total silence. Swore up and down that he'd never use again._

_When the guards checked on him, he'd just curl up in the corner like a rabbit, shaking, and watching them. They'd shake their heads, leaving or picking up trays of food. The fun didn't stop though. _

_Without fresh air, without the ability to at least walk around and work out the cramps, or even shower...he suffered in a way he never thought possible. The room became smaller and smaller and there was no escape. On the third straight day of hell, having had no sleep, no food, he'd made up his mind that he was going to kill himself. Tried to drown himself, bash himself, scratch out his arteries...in the end, there wasn't anything to kill himself with._

_He ended day four completely done in. Tired, sick, dying. He laid on the cot in a frozen state of being that the guards could not shake. They threw a couple of buckets of water on him, cleaned him up, left him alone. _

_By the end of the seven days, he was detoxed all right. But he had no intentions of staying that way. Walked down the cell block, looking a lot beat up, and collapsed on his cot. He felt the little package still in his pillow and could not wait for night. An hour later, Ernesto of the Mambo Kings darkened the cell door with three MK soldiers blocking the view from the guards. The sheet went up and he knew he was in deep shit._

"_Here's how it goes, Manning. You've been getting careless with your loyalties - I don't like you dealing so much with the Jamaicans. I'm not liking this bullshit drug abuse, and you got no sense with this Horenda bitch. Your...hate for him is getting real fuckin' obvious...and it's affecting what you're giving us."_

"_Get out of my room. You and I...we respect each other, but that's it. You don't like how I do business, you don't have to do business with me."_

"_You liked kicking in solitary?"_

_Todd eyed the man in front of him, realizing a sad, sad situation. Ernesto paid off the guards to do that to him. "Fuck you. You got some fuckin' nerve."_

"_You're out of control, Manning, and it's messing with our operations."_

_He got up and went face to face with the leader. "I don't owe you shit. I don't have to deal with you, I don't have to give you anything. You want to fight me...fuckin' fight me. You want to do business with me, then do the goddamn business. Either way...get out of my fuckin' ROOM."_

_Ernesto grinned..."You don't owe us? Really?"_

_Leaning forward, Ernesto whispered in Todd's ear, "What, you think Rolon is your friend? You think he kept that little secret of yours to himself? The fact that you get the fits every now and then?"_

_Todd pushed Ernesto hard, "Get out of my room."_

_The sheet came down and Ernesto turned to Todd. "Watch your fuckin' ass, Manning."_

_That night he didn't use...he was in too much trouble. The MKs had him on their radar and he had to figure a way out of it. _

_Sonofabitch._

* * *

><p>The sound of her children's voices stirred Tea from a heavy sleep. When she blinked open her eyes, she saw the drapes had been opened and she was decently covered. Her nightgown had been righted, the sheets and blanket pushed up over her shoulders. The warmth was delicious. She smiled at the joyful noise coming from the bathroom...<p>

Turning over in her bed, she saw Todd at the counter, shaving, wearing just his jeans. Lucia was on a seat, Tea's vanity chair, obviously having dragged it across the room so she could talk to her father. Reese was on the floor, scooting a toy in between and around Todd's bare feet, talking and making car sounds. Tea couldn't believe she'd slept through this. On her nightstand a coffee in an insulated cup sat waiting for her. Typical Saturday morning.

The conversation between Todd and Lucia was funny, a serious discussion regarding the politics of first grade with Todd offering sage advice. Lucia was different from Starr at the same age. Starr had been sweet, of course, loving, of course...but Lucia displayed this amazing patience for a child. She mothered easily, she had a strong sense of right and wrong, and she was very driven towards success. She didn't just learn to read, she read "chapter books," two years ahead of her grade. She didn't just learn a poem, she recited and performed, showing an understanding of emotions that were far beyond her age.

Sighing, Tea touched her throat, knowing there was a bruise there. She dreamed all night that she was fighting, swinging fists, screaming at something, somebody. Sometimes it was her mother, other times her father, still another time in the night, she was fighting an intruder.

"She brought twenty candies to the classroom, which wasn't good at all for all that sugar, but Papi, there are 24 of us in the class. Four kids didn't get candy! I told Jasmine it wasn't right that she did that, that she should have counted first but that was no good..."

"Yeah, I agree with you. That Jasmine really should have checked how many kids...but tell me, _preciosa,_ what kind of candy was it? And did YOU get any?"

"Papi, does it matter?"

"Well, kind of...'cause candy sounds sort of good right now...maybe a chocolate or something like jelly bellies...oooo...Sour Kids!"

"Papi! What did they teach over there?"

"That sugar makes you smarter!"

"It doesn't! It gives you cavities!"

"Hmmm...did you get the candy?"

"Yes!"

"I knew it!" With that, he dropped the shaver and picked her up in his arms, getting shaving cream on his daughter's hair and face, swinging her around the bathroom. Lucia squealed like mad, giggling and happy. Of course, Reese got up and grabbed Todd's legs and Todd put Lucia down to pick up the boy and Reese just hugged Todd like a little monkey, so much so that Todd often called Reese, his little monkey.

The three played some more, got washed off, ending with Reese crawling under the covers and hooking himself to Tea's body, as if he could go back into her womb, as if...as if... Tea held him tightly to her, smelling his delicious scent, thinking that he held Todd's worry of the world inside of him.

For all Lucia's grabbing of life, Reese always seemed to be putting it back. A soul who'd been here before and had seen all he needed to see, thank you very much. It didn't surprise her considering how he was conceived...when he was conceived...in the days Todd returned from Statesville. For weeks it seemed, Todd had been desperate in his love of Tea, desperate and afraid and mad with need. They made love constantly, hotly, violently. The world was a dark, miserable place and Reese seemed to carry that knowledge in his genes. Like Reese, Todd at times seemed that he simply wanted to disappear inside of Tea, that maybe he could live in her heart, in her soul...

Reese was the essence of Todd...when he'd returned from prison.

Lucia gave Tea a fast kiss on the cheek and scrambled out of the room, down the hall, yelling something about breakfast. Todd lay down on the bed, on top of the covers, touching Reese's head, smoothing the boy's shocked golden hair. Kissing his hot head. Keeping his cheek on Reese's head. The boy stuck his fingers in his mouth and closed his eyes, moved to relaxation by the touches of his father. Tea had to stop herself from reaching out to her husband.

Todd focused on Tea and she returned his gaze. There was much to say...too much. Todd reached out and touched her throat, whispering that he was sorry for that.

"Is it bad?"

"Bad enough. I just...needed you...needed to feel you...I'm sorry."

Tea sighed and shook her head, her voice soft, trying to keep emotion out. "When you were gone, Lucia thought you were in Iraq. When I told her that wasn't true, she said, 'I know he is at war, Mami. You say he is not, but I know he is.' I don't know what she picked up on, I never will. She was right, of course. Three years old when she said that. To this day, she worries you are going to disappear into that imagined war. For this reason, I do not throw you out. For this reason, you still sleep in my bed. I cannot bear for her to feel afraid or worried for you. I cannot BEAR it."

Todd lay back and rubbed his face, sighed, stared at the ceiling. For a long while the three lay in the bed that way, caught in limbo.

"You know," Tea said quietly, "I thought it was because of me that you spoke Spanish words."

"It is."

"No, it's not. It because of these men, MK. How much Spanish do you speak?"

"A lot of Cuban swearing. Not much useful stuff. Tea..."

"You know what hurts...the lying. I've smelled those...scents off your skin before...you told me you were in a bar, or with George...or...my GOD, how easy I am. How easy I accepted where you were all the time...how easy I left you to yourself, because of my sympathies...my...stupidity..."

Todd reached over and touched Tea's face, placed his hand on her head, "Please...I never meant to hurt you, Tea, but to protect you. I'll tell you everything. I'll try to explain why...how... But I know whatever I say will be inadequate." He gazed at Reese, his expression one of deep sadness. "I am not the man I used to be...no...I'm just past ever becoming the man I wanted to be, the man you thought I could be. I think you're realizing that, and I feel it. I'm sorry...I knew this would happen." He smiled, "I knew you'd see that file eventually, I'm sure you're going to hunt down those kids...I'm sure Bo's going to talk to everyone who gave my alibi. You're going to realize...I wasn't the protector, not the way you described it."

Tea didn't look at him, her eyes down, her body wrapped around Reese just as much as he was around her. "I believe my client - he wouldn't lie to me. He had no reason to lie - he had no idea you were my husband. He truly appreciated what you did. And he said there was someone else too who said the same thing...appreciated it. They seemed to understand the whole thing."

"Tea, if you were in hell...and Satan gave you a little water, a little...salve for the pain of the burn, wouldn't you_ appreciate it_?" His voice had changed. More serious, more disregarding of his sleeping son.

"Well, fine, here's something else I'm not confident about anymore," she said. "Todd, do you still use heroin?"

He sort of laughed, then didn't. He rubbed his hair back, his eyes surveying the room, before landing on his son. "No, I don't. I want to, though, I'll always want to." He looked at her with dead seriousness, "Heroin saved me in prison, Tea, from suicide. You have no idea how often I thought about ending things, how close I came. But then I'd get high and suddenly things didn't seem so bad. I'd read your letters again and again and...think...okay, okay...another day, Manning, another day."

"How could you? Knowing you had Lucia at home, me, Jed...Starr..."

"Oh Tea...suicide would have prevented THIS from happening and I knew it. I knew I was..." He whispered the curse word, "I knew I was _fucked _my first day in. And I knew every day after that, what was going to happen to me. God, I see you looking at me the way you're doing right now...and I think...maybe I shouldn't have come home. Let my daughter think I died a hero in a war. You cannot bear hurting Lucia...I cannot bear you looking at me, the way you're doing. Like...I'm a monster."

He got off the bed, and grabbed a shirt and socks out of his drawer. He sat and dressed, yanking on his favorite hiking boots. He turned to her and sighed heavily, "Thing is, you're not wrong, Tea. I _am_ a monster."

He looked at his hands, felt young Leya Moreno's delicate throat beneath them, little bones, so breakable. He touched the scars on his knuckles.

LOVE.

When he'd walked out of the restaurant into the cool air, after leaving Leya, he walked all the way around to the back, where it was dark and woodsy, and fell against the back wall, huddled with his head in his hands, sick that he'd hurt Leya in any way. Sick at how easy it had been, how natural. He'd treated her like those kids in prison...mistreating them to warn them. Hurting them to keep them scared and in check. So fucking easy...

In the back, in the shadows, he crumpled inside, agonizing at the complete overtake by the monster. The horror to him was his complete knee-jerk reaction. When she stood there looking up at him, wanting him, he didn't think twice. He just...did it.

When he came to himself, needing to go home, he made his way slowly to the front, the limp feeling worse, the scarred wound feeling weaker. Halfway there, he saw a bigger monster than himself: Leya's father. The guy took one look at Todd and punched him so hard on the side of his head, that Todd hit the ground, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. The old man didn't finish with that.

Pedro, who meant everything to Todd, stepped over to him, put his boot on Todd's chest and growled, "_You touch my daughter like that again, Blanco, and I will fucking kill you."_

Struggling for air still, Todd choked out, _"God, Pedro, I'm sorry...I was thinking of my own daughters...the risk...if it hadn't been me..."_

"_You touch your teenage daughter's breasts? You pinch them? You like that kinda shit? You motherfucker...that's something I haven't heard from you."_

"_Jesus, no...I got carried away, a little drunk...and a lot scared for her..."_

The boot made its way to Todd's throat and Pedro pressed down it, _"How does that feel...Blanco, eh? How does that feel?"_

Todd tried to push him off, and he could have. He could have put his whole body into it, he could have taken that boot and knocked the hell out of Pedro...but he didn't. He stopped fighting, completely unable to breathe. Hands on Pedro's leg, the way Leya had her hands on his arm. As if. The night sky above him winked and blinked its lights...and he hoped Tea would be okay without him, no, in those seconds, he knew she would be. He looked at Pedro's face, the anger there, the sorrow...slowly, slowly, he was dying...the edges of light began to close in...he mouthed, please...

Later, he wondered what he said please for...for the killing to stop...or please, finish him off.

When Pedro moved seconds later, Todd rolled over, coughing and gasping for air. Crawling away from him. Ashamed and on the verge of tears. The only words running through his head, were how sorry he was, so sorry. And suddenly, in that moment, he was transported to a much earlier time. For the first time, Todd realized Pedro...the name, Pedro...in Spanish...meant, Peter. As in Peter Manning.

"_I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...I won't again, I won't do that anymore...please forgive me, _perdóneme...perdóneme, por favor..."

Like a dog, like a pathetic dog, he found himself begging for forgiveness. Making his way on the ground to Pedro's boots...the one that had been on his throat.

"_It's all RIGHT,"_ Pedro said. "_You made your point with her. I just wanted to make sure that you and I understood one another. Do we? Are we clear?"_

"_Yes, yes...I will never touch her again. No matter what."_

"_Good. Then get up."_

Todd had gotten up, slowly, first to his knees, then to his feet, his head down, barely able to look at Pedro. He felt the man's hand on his head, heard his words, "_I forgive you. It's okay, _mi hijo bastardo_...I know you meant well. I know you did."_

He was sick, and drifting in his mind in a way he hadn't drifted in a very long time. He felt a distance from what was happening, like he was looking down at himself. From...very far away, safe, and protected. He could hear the fan above him, and he looked up as if it was there.

"_So now, Blanco, I thank you for teaching Leya something I wasn't able to convey. She's been acting...inappropriately, with the wrong people. She knows now, the reality, the truth...of men like you and me. Leya knows now. She KNOWS." _

He couldn't remember the rest of the conversation, if there was any. Couldn't remember Pedro leaving him, or getting into the cab, or even the drive home. One moment he was with Pedro and the next he was on his porch. The rest was...gone. Black. He'd blacked out and it scared him. He had sat on the porch a long time. Feeling differently, strangely about things. He cried again, like a child. Feeling he lost his father's approval, that he'd been caught doing something bad, and it all hurt so much. But then it faded. and he just wanted Tea. He wanted to feel her, get inside of her...get something that felt like love. By the time he'd hit their bedroom, the night was gone, and he just needed to get to his wife.

Looking now at Tea, beautiful with their baby in her arms, because Reese was still such a baby, he tried to forget that he simply couldn't STOP being a monster anymore. That it would just come, easy, easy. Easy as pie, natural as snow. Without his being able to say or do anything.

He asked for her truth. "Do you want me gone, Tea? Without thinking of Lucia. I want to know what's inside of you, what's in your heart. Do you want me to go?"

Tea hugged Reese closer to her, pinching her eyes closed. "Todd, I'm trying to absorb everything I've learned in these past days. I'm focusing on your actions at home, at the paper, with your family. I don't see a monster, I see YOU. Your description of Diego broke my heart - I cannot imagine what you went through. For you to give that child...what you did...to walk away, get yourself thrown into solitary so you couldn't interrupt him...Todd, any normal man would be crazy now. But you...you being...a _monster,_ saved your life. You came home to us. To me. I'm trying to...process this. I'm trying."

He nodded, "Okay, okay." The world remained unresolved. His head hurt.

His cell phone lit up on the nightstand, and he breathed hard at that. Reached for it, tiredly, ran his fingers across the screen to see the caller. He looked serious, then he laughed, laughed kind of hard. Looked at Tea again, started to say something...shook his head.

"A text from George...nice...my former cellmate, Brayden Armstrong, just blew my alibi."

Tea gasped a little.

He raised his cool, hazel eyes to her, "Tea, this is...um...one guy...who did not appreciate my protection. Not one bit."

Lucia came running into the room, all smiles, and innocence, "Papi, Mami, come and eat breakfast! You will love it!"

Todd and Tea looked at her, then at each other...Tea could only hold her baby to her, holding that misery deep inside of him.

"Yeah, girl, let's eat. Come on, show me what you got..."

**To be continued...**


	10. Chapter 10

**Caged** **Chapter 10**

Rule on prison gangs: they are tolerated because they exert control over other misbehaving prisoners in a way guards cannot. They bring order to chaos.

_Despite the scorched earth attitude Todd carried around like a machete at his side, he did have moments of calm. Mostly with Odell, the Jamaican. The two of them often cut away from the crowds in the yard, sitting in the furthest corner, backs against the barbed wire, right beneath the furthest guard tower. Odell always broke out a joint and shared it with Todd, who never really had a taste for weed but did it anyway out of "friendship," and because it reminded him of Jedediah._

_On this particular day, the ache of vengeance was beyond tolerance and Todd had snorted a lot of dope, a lot early. Odell and he were laughing like they were on a stoop in the city on a sunny summer day, instead of under a grey sky in the furthest reaches of Statesville. Laughing over nothing, old jokes, past experiences, a guy who threw up his lunch on a guard. _

_In the midst of the laughter, Odell commented, "People is talkin' mon, talking 'bout you and the MK. Some kinda hassle, yah?"_

"_Yeah...they're not liking me doin' dope..." He burst out in laughter and the two cracked up hard at something they found funny in it._

_Sniffling, getting over the hysteria, Todd said, "I don't give a shit,...ain't my problem."_

_Odell chuckled, breathing in a toke, "It's a big problem, mon. Rolon...he's in the middle. Be careful, yah? Don't piss 'em off, yah? Der ain't not'ing we can do to help."_

"_Yeah...MK don't like you guys."_

_"Yah, but we stay respectful, keep our distance. You gotta stay smart, mon."_

_Todd looked across the yard, seeing his boys in a pick-up game. Having fun, feeling right. _

_Odell commented, "Dey playin' good today."_

"_Yeah," Todd murmured, sucking in some of that Jamaican weed, watching that dusty red ball, watching those boys. He had five "kids" working for him, some in the library, others working the information circuit in other ways. They were all vulnerable in Statesville, delicate, slender, some pretty. He'd had six, but one got out on parole, Kenny McNair. The kid had gotten taken up by the Northeastern Aryans, and had been severely mistreated. Ever since Diego, folks understood Todd would take "desirable" kids in exchange for hot information, particularly the kind of info that people got killed for. Kenny was a trade, and like the others, Todd had been rough on him at the beginning. But...the kid learned to behave proper. Even became Todd's cell mate after Brayden got switched to another cell. _

_On his last night before Kenny left on his parole, in a late hour, some time before lights went on in the morning, Todd had woken to a warm hand on his bare belly, the hand attached to a prayerful Kenny on his knees next to Todd's bunk. Todd was still high off dope and didn't have the energy to get all medieval on the kid. He touched the boy's hand, feeling the heat on his cold skin. Todd closed his eyes and imagined, tried to remember, the feel of Tea on him. He took the kid's hand and held it to his face, placed it on his heart. It had been so long since he'd had someone touch him affectionately. Lovingly. It tasted, sounded, felt...bittersweet._

_Just as he was about to push the kid away, Kenny reached into the bunk and kissed Todd on the mouth. Soft and yielding, tender as a woman's kiss. The kid whispered, "Thank you for saving me," staring right back at Todd's wounded expression._

_Because the boy was leaving, because there was no longer any threat, Todd put a hand on the kid's head and gently pushed him away. _

"_Had you done that a week ago, I'd have done something horrible to you."_

"_I know. That's why I did it today." The toe-headed kid smiled a little, shrugging, "I'm leaving."_

_Todd nodded, his eyes sleepy, his voice ragged, "You're not scared."_

"_Not of you, no. I know you, I think. For some time now, glimmers here and there - when you talk to some of the others, when I see you writing your letters. I've even seen you smile and laugh a little - I mean, in a real way, not a fucked-up way. And when you ARE high, you look at me like I'm...just a kid, not a con, not one of your...'subs.' You look at me like you have love to give somebody and there isn't anywhere for you to put it. I don't know how you got to Statesville...but I'm really hoping you got some real love waiting for you outside. Hoping those letters aren't from some lunatic who's got a thing for cons."_

_Todd swallowed hard, the ache to be someplace else cutting him like a jagged rock in the center of his being. All the heroin in the world couldn't ease this pain. _

"_Just hope by the time you get out," Kenny sighed, "you haven't totally killed all that's good about you." _

_Those last words exploded inside of him, hard burning pellets. Todd could only look at that kid and choke out, "Good luck out there." Turned over onto his side, facing the wall and pulling his knees up because the pain in his gut was too much. He breathed hard, fighting, fighting that hurt._

_After a few minutes passed, the kid crawled into the cot and lay right behind Todd. He tentatively reached out and placed a hand on Todd's arm, finally pressing up against him and wrapping his arm around him, hooking his leg over Todd's, and Todd just let him because he needed somebody, something, anything to keep him from flying apart. _

_Beneath the kid's soft pulling back of his hair, he slipped back into a heroin trance. There, he felt more touches by this boy on the bare skin of his back, gentle kisses in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Warm words flowed in his ear, _let me love you, let me touch you, let me...let me...just tonight..._and a young body began to move gently against him, then...loving him as easy as a rolling sea. Todd turned towards the warmth and let himself be loved, swimming with the waves, part of the deep blue, far, far away, in and out of the water he moved, beneath a moon's light filtered through wired glass and shadowy bars. The culminating sound of his own desperate, quiet gasp echoed in his head a long time._

_When morning came, the kid was gone and he was alone in the cell, fully naked under a loose sheet, his chest bearing the remnant of a bruising bite. He couldn't remember what was real and what wasn't, but he could still feel the heat of love, still taste deep kisses, still sense skin against skin, still smell the sweat of lovemaking, and he sobbed silently into his pillow with the most painful ache for home and love that he'd felt in the three years since he'd first come to Statesville._

_Thing is, it didn't matter what parts were real, what wasn't, it all hurt so fuckin' much just the same._

_Odell slapped Todd's face, waking him up, an act that might have gotten Odell hurt bad any other time, "You noddin' out, mon. You better fuckin' cut it out or da gaurds, dey put you away again."_

_Todd gazed at Odell a moment, lost in a heroin dream. Then he chuckled, mimicked Odell's accent, "Yah...mon...can't have dat, can I?" Laughed a little harder and before long he and Odell were both laughing again like a couple of drunk hyenas._

_But soon, they spotted Rolon huffing it across the yard, heading towards them. Todd glanced at Odell, the fun disintegrating into air like fine mist._

"_Manning, private word with you."_

_Odell put his hands up, "Later, mon." Fell over, rolled to his knees, and got to his feet before walking away._

"_Nice support there, 'dell. Fuck." Todd struggled to his feet, hanging on the fence for balance. Kept his back to the fence._

"_Yah...dat's how I roll," Odell yelled back. "You die alone, my friend! I say a good obit for you, mon! Only good 'tings! Yah, I lie like a dog so your family still love you!"_

_Rolon sighed, "I'm not here to kill you."_

"_The fuck ever...you don't mean shit to me, 'friend.'"_

"_You're talking about the seizures...look, I had to explain. Ernesto is not exactly into rapists, especially active rapists, and you got quite the stable, man. He didn't want shit to do with you and...so I told him the truth."_

"_Great...really fuckin' appreciate it. You know what, I'm outtie." Tried to get away, but Rolon stopped him, grabbing Todd's upper arm. _

_Todd whipped around at that, his defenses firing up like a goddamn race car and pointing a pretty bad-ass shank at Rolon's throat._

"_Whoa!" Rolon stepped back, his hands up, eying a very lit up man, a very dangerous one._

"_Don't touch me," Todd growled, "I will fuck you up."_

"_I'm sorry, _hermano._ Okay...okay."_

"_I'm not your brother, Rolon! The fuck you want with me anyway! I got nothin' to give! I'm all out, you know?"_

"_Yeah, I know. Look, I want to say... Can you put that thing away before you hurt yourself?"_

"_You gonna be cool? You ain't here to kill me?"_

"_No, man, I'm not."_

_Todd calmed a little, his eyes constantly checking Rolon for that surprise attack, constantly looking around him for surprise troops. He shoved the thing away in his waistband, and Rolon breathed in a bit of relief, looking around, too. _

"_Fuckin' spit it out," Todd grumbled._

"_You need help with Horenda."_

"_Nah...I got it all locked up. Don't need anything from you."_

"_I know, you're the fuckin' lone ranger...I'm just here to say that, uh, when you decide you DO need help, MK will back you up. You got a way in. You just have to ask."_

"_The hell are you saying?"_

_Rolon looked hard at Todd, glanced up at the guard hidden in his tower, whispered harshly, "You want help killing that motherfucker Horenda and MK will support you. We'll bring you in. How much clearer I have to be?"_

"_You want me...in MK. To help me off Horenda."_

"Santo madre de dios._..do you want a fuckin' written invitation?"_

"_I ain't _Cubano, maricón_."_

"_Not in skin or blood, but you got heart." He thumped his chest, "You a _Cubano_ in soul, man. Ernesto says yes. Special shit from even higher up than that. You're proven gold with us. You just have to ask when you get tired of fighting on your own."_

"_Fuck you, bitch. FUCK you." He hit his chest with splayed hands, "I don't need shit from anybody! You hear me? Fuck you!" Punched the air as punctuation._

_Todd walked away, backwards a bit, then turned and found himself walking into a current of wind, the breeze pushing against him...and he was tired. Very, very tired. Instinctively, he scratched the long-gone kiss on his chest, feeling more alone than ever. _

"Blanco,"_ Rolon cooed from the fence, "_El Diablo Blanco_. That's you, brother. You been named, man. You just have to ask."_

_On that day, no amount of heroin helped._

* * *

><p>Todd had stayed home at the direct order of George Strauss, his lawyer, who grumbled across the air waves, "You're not walking into that station and getting all up into Brayden's grill the way you're likely to do. Last thing I need, Manning. And further...I heard shit from your people. You're probably looking like you got into a brawl...another reason I don't want you around the cops."<p>

"Fine, whatever."

"It's true? You actually fighting?"

"Don't want to talk about it."

"Forever the bulldog. Stay off the booze, too. You catch a DUI and I'm not fuckin' defending you."

"Yeah, yeah...whatever."

Tea had peeled herself away from Reese who was sunk deeply into his morning nap, smelling her hands, breathing in the sweet scent of her boy. Todd plopped back onto the bed, kicking off his boots, snuggling against Reese.

Shaking her head, Tea said, "I'm going down there. Tired of not being your lawyer."

"You're not divorcing me?"

"I told you, I'm processing."

From the bed, he looked vulnerable, child-like. Wounded. Tea walked fast, needing to get away from his scars and needy expression. Those things trapped her, condemned her. She showered fast, and when she came out, wrapped in towels, covering up her bruises from her daughter, Todd was out cold, having tucked himself away back into the safety of sleep right along with Reese.

Lucia was in the door with her hands on her hips.

"Why, Mami, is Papi sleeping again?"

"Long night, _mijita."_

Whispering, she asked, "Is it the _war_?"

Tea smiled, nodding, hugging Lucia close to her, "Yes, I think so. Takes a long time to get over a war."

* * *

><p>From behind the mirror, Tea and George looked at Brayden Armstrong sitting in the interrogation room, his foot tapping, his fingers tapping. Brayden had been convicted of felony vehicular manslaughter in the killing of a mother of three when his souped-up truck hit her car as she left her house, headed to the market for a last-minute purchase before dinner. She was probably thinking onions, tomatoes...and pow. The world ended for her in mere seconds, her soul flying upwards into the heavens, never to touch earth again.<p>

Brayden had been paroled about six months after Todd had been released. He was a good-looking White guy, all-American, medium build, sandy blond hair. He wore it short, was clean-shaven, and had no jewelry anywhere. No wedding ring. His jeans, collared shirt, and loafers told Tea he worked in a low-level business office of some kind. There was no indication that this kid had ever been in Statesville except for that convict sheen. His eyes were suspicious, he watched all around him, listening for the door, and studied the mirror, as if he could see Tea and George. His expression was serious, giving away nothing.

The door opened and Bo walked in, dropping a file on the table. Brayden watched Bo carefully, knocking his head back, waiting.

"So glad you could join us once again, Mr. Armstrong, to replay the information you gave my detective earlier."

"Don't have a choice."

"Right. Look, I'm going to keep it simple. A little over three years ago, you claimed that you were with Todd Manning on the afternoon of March 18, mere months before he was released, that you were on the basketball court with him. That day happens to be the day of Jessie Horenda's murder near the laundry in Statesville. Thing is...no guard remembers him there, no other inmate remembers him there...but they do remember you, Tomas Flora, Ty Jerome, and Royce Jimenez. All of you said Todd was there...but nobody remembers him. They remember YOU guys, his workers,...but not him."

Bo opened the file and Tea flinched at the fourth year shot of her husband, the one that she did not recognize as her husband. It had been blown up.

Brayden turned his head, obviously not wanting to see that man again. Tea eyed George who was too focused on the kid to say anything.

'So...was he on the court?"

Brayden flipped the picture over, shook his head.

"What does that mean, Mr. Armstrong?"

In a voice anybody could barely hear, he said, "He wasn't there."

"I'm sorry, our friends in the back can't hear you."

"He wasn't there! He wasn't on the court. We had to say he was because that's what he told us to say!"

In the observation room, Tea flopped down on a chair, and George shook his head, putting his hand out on Tea's shoulder, saying softly, "Ain't over yet, counselor."

"Brayden, who else is going to side with you?"

He shook his head, shrugging. "Those boys are fuckin' loyal."

"Why?"

Silence. The kid tapped the table, getting a bit antsy. Looked around. Bit his lip.

George whispered to Tea, "He's going to lie. Getting up the courage to lie."

"'Cuz if we don't protect him, he'll find us," Brayden said, his voice a little stronger, "he'll come to our houses, he'll fucking rape us, and kill us. Ask any of 'em."

Bo looked at the mirror, then turned back to Braydon. "I promise you, he will not ever hurt you again. We'll make sure of it."

"I dream of him, sir, dream of his hands on me, around my throat, his fists smashing my face. I wake up screaming. You can't take that away. Nobody can."

George shrugged, "That...well, that's probably true. Your husband made quite the impression on those kids, God bless him. Even I have fuckin' nightmares about him."

Tea sighed, shaking her head, "This kid has it out for Todd."

Her detachment was fading fast, her shock at the past few days. Brayden blew the alibi, but he did it out of hate, and THAT was easily dismissed. Bo got lucky. It wasn't going to happen again. Tea dug into her purse...and pulled out that list of workers. Like Todd said, she WAS going to hunt each of them down. But she was going to do it before Bo could get to them. Horenda was the real monster...another Phillip Manning, Peter Manning. Worse than that even. God damn it, Todd wasn't going to pay for this. No, sir, no he wasn't. Some things...well...that had been justice. That had been...a good kill.

_Detached? Not so much._

George nodded, in agreement with Tea. "Oh yeah, easy to impeach."

In the meantime, Bo looked at Braydon and asked sincerely, "Did Todd Manning rape you when you were his cellmate?"

"He's lying again," George interjected.

Brayden rubbed his lips, his face. He licked the sides of his mouth. Finally, in a soft voice, he said, "Yes. Several times. Many times. He had other people do it, too, to punish me." He looked down, looked sad, "He hurt me. A lot. He needed me to cover up the fact that he had epilepsy. It was a reality that could have him gotten him killed. So he beat me...to keep me in line. He did that to all of us. Every single one of his workers."

Tea didn't like hearing this. She knew there was truth there...it's what Todd had been trying to tell her.

"Why didn't you report any of this? His record is totally clean with regard to you guys."

"You mean...why wasn't I a snitch? Because he would have FUCKING KILLED ME! ANY OF US!"

George interjected again, "Well...that's probably true."

"Shut up, George," Tea grumbled.

"Thank you, Mr. Armstrong, you can go now. After you sign the recant docs."

Tea stood just as Bo poked his head into the observation room, a serious expression on his face. "Another innocent got murdered today, Tea...George. You really ought to be considering Manning's 'alibis.' He could make a real difference in this Serrano-Irish fight."

George got in Bo's face, "This is bullshit. You tried this once before and Manning folded. He isn't folding again. You're going to have to have a HELL of lot more than one or two recanted alibis to get him on Horenda's killing." George pointed at the window, "And that guy, he's a goddamn liar. And you goddamn well know that. Todd Manning would never rape a MAN. EVER."

"We'll see," Bo said. "Statesville does things to a person. Changes them. And your client...was CHANGED. And you...my friend...god damn well know THAT."

Tea couldn't talk to Bo...she simply glared at him. Turned and walked out the door. She had an address. Her first person, Ty Jerome, a small-time thief that had caught a big-time felony. He was still on probation. Easy to find, so Bo would definitely be on his trail. She had to get there first. She had to test him, had to see if the alibi would hold. See how many of those kids would still stand by Todd.

When she reached her car, George caught up to her. "Where the hell are you going?"

"Ty Jerome."

"Not alone you're not."

"Why the hell not? I can take care of myself!"

"Jesus, you're sounding more like him everyday, Tea Delgado-MANNING."

She was about to say, "Fuck you, bitch," but stopped herself, hating to confirm George's notation. Clearing her throat, she smiled, "I'm fine on my own."

"Okay, truth is your husband is on the line and he says, 'Like hell she's going alone.'" He handed her his phone and Tea took it. She'd been ignoring his calls on her own cell.

"What?"

"Tea, those kids..."

"I know, I know...they're going to say horrible things about you. I'm over it. Brayden said you raped him. How much worse could it be?"

"No...it's not that. They're dangerous, Delgado. If they feel threatened, scared, they will hurt you. These 'kids' weren't in prison by accident. Please take George with you." His voice sounded tired, serious. Sad. She sighed. God, how she wished for detachment.

Said softly, "All right, I'll take him."

They were both quiet a moment, before Todd said, "I didn't rape anybody in prison."

"Did you have other people rape your kids? 'Cause that's what Brayden said you did." George sort of nodded, mouthing, "Probably true." She wanted to kick him.

"Be careful," was all Todd said.

* * *

><p>Back at his desk, Bo Buchanan sat reading the report from the tattoo analyst, commenting to Henry who just walked to his door, "Got nothing. Those tats are clean. No cross-refs. Goddamnit."<p>

Nodding, Henry smiled, "The report doesn't have anything, but I have something for ya'."

Looking up, Bo said, "Hit me."

"A photojournalist studied Statesville about four years ago, did a pretty in depth analysis of prison gangs. Took a bunch of photos, took interviews, surveys...all kinds of stuff. The guy donated his work to the Statesville historical society after he published his article."

"Okay."

"Look at this. Never published this photo...nobody giving permission and all that. It's not much, but it's something. Gives us places to search a little deeper."

He plopped a photo on the desk and Bo looked at it, whistling at first, "Well. This IS interesting."

Right there in black and white was a candid shot of about twenty-odd men sitting up and down the bleachers in Statesville. The shot didn't mean much until you noticed that two or three were subtly flashing their MK symbol, three fingers on each hand, pointed in different directions, all towards the camera. The rest looked elsewhere, some men sitting closer together than others. Scrawled across the bottom of the photo was a note, "_Puro _Mambo Kings, _Cubano_." Bo knew enough to understand that the journalist had written "Pure Mambo Kings." Bo figured that meant...these were ALL MK guys. They were quite the collection of Latino warriors. Nobody wanted to come across these guys in a dark alley.

But...but...here was the rub: right there on the bleachers, right next to them, in the midst of them, looking all pissed off in all his macho glory, squinting at something in the distance, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and that fuck-you-in-your-face long hair...sat _Todd Manning._

He sat back, looking at Henry. "Holy crap. The Mambo Kings..." Bo chuckled. "Nah...wouldn't have guessed that. He's not Cuban. Jesus...what did he do for them, for them to let him in? How the hell did you find this?"

"Dumb luck, sir. Came across it in the Statesville archives."

"Okay...we missed something in those tats. Three fingers...three fingers...making something look like the letters MK..."

He pulled out the shots of the tattoos that Todd got at Statesville, flipped back and forth between them, rotating them, and finally laughed. "Unbelievable. Here you go, Henry...how the hell did I miss this? We're firing that tattoo analyst."

Bo took a pen and outlined the letters in the snake tattoo, and the spider. Clear as mud. M. K. The letters swirled into the design, blended into the lines, but once you saw it, you couldn't STOP seeing it.

Clever guy.

"Let's run 'em down again," Bo murmured. Breathed hard and sat back. "And search Horenda's autopsy report for ANYTHING that shows those sons of bitches were involved in the murder. Manning did it, Henry, and with that little...act...this one kill...he started a god damn war. Damn it!"

* * *

><p>George and Tea headed to the countryside, where Ty Jerome lived according to his last known. The day was beautiful, the light snow having melted, the sun high above in the grey-blue sky. There was a cold breeze blowing from the north. Smelled like more snow. George drove his long black Cadillac, Tea riding shotgun.<p>

On the way, Tea said she needed the addresses for the other kids and George chuckled, reached into his coat pocket, and tossed a sheet of paper with addresses of all the kids that ever worked for Todd in Statesville.

"And I was so proud of myself having the one address."

"I'm his lawyer, Tea. You're out of practice." He glanced at her, his long grey hair tight in a pony tail, his fair skin now lined with the weight of hundreds of criminal clients over his long career. "You think I'm not going to keep tabs on his alibi witnesses?"

"No, of course you are. Good. Makes my job easier."

Tea felt out of touch, that feeling bubbling up again that she'd been living under a rock. She hated it. The road got bumpy and they slowed to a crawl, passing lots of small, old houses on large, fallow plots of land. The black Cadillac hopped as they moved toward an old broken down ranch-style house at the end of the road. All by itself it stood, like the bottom of the barrel. It looked even worse the closer they got. Paint was peeling, roof was patched, the garden was dormant, and dogs were barking like mad. Looked like a kennel, sounded and smelled like one, too. Trash had built up on the side yard, an old car, old furniture pieces upside down and right side up on each other. Sure enough, a sign at the gate said, "Terrier Rescue."

"Why exactly did Todd say these kids were dangerous?" Tea studied the house, listening to those dogs, barking, howling. One sounded inconsolable.

George stopped the car, kicked on the emergency brake. His hands were still on the steering wheel and his eyes roved the property in front of them. "Because by being an asshole to these kids, they learned to fight for their lives. Because Todd turned them into snakes. Little...dangerous...snakes." He hissed for effect before he opened the door and stepped outside, Tea following him.

George walked with a cautious step, as if there really were snakes on the ground. Tea found herself watching the ground as they walked closer to the gate. George rang the bell and it was loud, seeming to bang against those dogs, the painted siding, that furniture. The barking got louder, more intense and frenzied. George instinctively reached for Tea.

Soon, there was a shadow coming around the corner and then Tea saw the double-barrel of a shotgun pointing at them. Tea backed up.

A young man with black hair cut short to his head stalked towards them. He had a loose black jacket on, ragged jeans, and dirt-encrusted boots that looked like they'd seen a lot of walking. The double-barreled gun, cocked and ready, was tight to his shoulder. She was about to dismiss this as Ty, thinking it wasn't, when he growled, "The fuck you want?"

_Statesville's greeting._

George snapped, "Interested in adopting one of your fine terriers."

"They don't get adopted." He lowered the weapon, just a little, eyed Tea and George. Statesville was present in his sharp gaze, eyes that took in everything about his visitors.

Tea swallowed and said, "Why not?"

"They're retired fighting dogs, pit bulls on kill lists 'cause they don't work real well with people."

George nodded, asked, "This your place? Or you just work here?"

"My place. My business."

"You Ty Jerome?"

The gun went back up. Took steps forward. With the way he held that gun, there was no doubt he knew how to use it. This kid was going to go down fighting, just like his dogs. Growled like them, too, "You cops?"

George snapped again, "Well, if we were, you'd be dead now with all that waving around of an illegal fuckin' gun in our faces."

The kid kept that gun tight, nodded to George, "You got a card or somethin'?"

Tea, tired of the circular dance, "Look, we're lawyers, we represent Todd Manning and he's in trouble. So we're just trying to see if you're on HIS side, or on the side of the god damn cops."

An impish side grin broke out across his stubbly face, taking ten years off his age, "Todd Manning?" He un-cocked the gun, put it down, leaned on it like a cane, and crossed one foot over the other. Tea suddenly wondered if it was even loaded. No, it was definitely loaded.

"I'd lay my life down for that motherfucker," Ty said. "Whatever he needs, I'm there. Whatever he needs me to fuckin' say, I'll say it."

George and Tea looked at each other, and then followed the kid inside his modest house. The place was clean, but Tea could tell he lived alone. No family pictures, nothing that indicated he had anyone at all to love. People that is. There was an old doberman in the corner, hardly moving. He watched Ty the entire time and when Ty bent to him, the dog licked him gratefully, Ty softly talking to him.

All the while, though, that kid never let go of the gun. Never really stopped checking out Tea and George. When they were done talking in the kitchen, Tea and George confident in Ty's loyalty, the firmness in the alibi, they got the tour of the kennel. He finally let go of the gun, storing it away on a holder in the hallway by the outside door.

The place was just as ragged in the back as in the front, thirty kennels spread throughout the backyard on a concrete pad. The dogs jumped at the sight of Ty with visitors and made a lot of noise, most aggressive, some playful. They were all pit bull terriers, strong, meaty, short-haired dogs of medium heights with big jaws and teeth, all with scarred faces and bodies. Ty slipped into one or two of the cages, the dogs lapping his face, his hands. He petted them, loved them up. They seemed sweet.

Tea must have had a smile on her face because he shook his head, "Don't let 'em fool you. These guys will kill you just as fast as they'll kiss you if they feel threatened, or if they think you're going to attack ME."

He had snacks that he gave them. He filled up water dishes. He talked all along, chattering about his Statesville days. Tea noticed that Ty was scarred, too, just like those dogs, jagged lines running across his scalp where little hair grew, one pretty big one down his neck and disappearing into his clothes. She also noticed that he carried a pretty hefty knife sheathed on his belt. Todd would call him, scrappy. His hands were rough, calloused. His nose looked broken, or...like it had been broken and never healed right.

He was dangerous...if threatened. But his slight build, his pretty face...Tea could see how he might have been vulnerable at one time.

As Tea walked and listened, she looked towards the end of the kennel, spotting a black pit bull alone and quiet. Pacing back and forth in the cage. He watched Tea, George and Ty. Kept his eyes on them. He drank some water and went back to the pacing. The other dogs were barking, but not this one. He was badly scarred and, while the other dogs seemed to smile when they panted with their tongues hanging out, this one didn't. No panting.

Ty shuffled up to Tea, "I call this one Breaker..."

"What's the matter with him?"

The boy got a serious look on his face, studying the dog that began to growl, the dog's lips lifting on both sides of his scarred snout, "Can't be fixed. The only time I can get close to him is when I sedate him. Put drugs in his water just so I can get inside and clean the cage. Give him the water and food through that opening there. See that notice on the door? That's animal control on my back. They say I have to kill him. And I can't, I just can't fuckin' do it."

The kid's eyes moistened. He looked down, scraping the floor with his boot. "He don't make much noise 'cause his voice box got all screwed up in a dog fight. That growling's about all he does. He was a champ in those circles, leaving other dogs in pieces, I heard...but...this last fight, he did it to the death of himself, you know? Fought everyone that tried to get him to back down until the bastard owners shot him. So I heard."

Tea realized that he was still in the information business. "They didn't kill him," she commented.

"Nope...so fuckin' strong, that bullet just pushed him to the ground, knocked him out. The owners thought he was dead so they dumped him on the highway. Humane Society picked him up, healed him. But...when they saw the nightmare that woke up after surgery, he was placed right in line for the gas chamber. They called me. Gave me a shot at him. But...nothing worked. He can't be fixed. Been a year and he's still just as pissed off as when he first got here. Still doesn't trust me, doesn't trust anybody."

Tea walked forward a little, taking small steps, trying to get a better look at the animal. A monster. The dog came to life at that, jumping at the cage over and over, his mouth tearing open in a hideous, choked growl, biting at air, because he couldn't bark. Tea stepped back, shaking her head.

Ty sighed, "That's why he's back there. Like I said, the only time I can touch him is when he's drugged hard. And when that happens, he just looks at me with those dark, hopeless eyes...fuck. There ain't nothin' I can do to help him. But...lord knows...just as their ain't no fixing him, I cannot kill him."

Tea murmured, "He's a heart breaker all right."

Smiling a little sadly, Ty shrugged, "Yeah. Kinda reminds me of Todd Manning actually."

Closed her eyes briefly...of course. The similarities were obvious, striking.

"Manning was just like this dog," Ty continued. "The only time any of us could approach him was when he was fucked up. If he wasn't...he fuckin' bit your hand off. Or worse. Never could take any kindness from any of us, and God help us if we acted poorly. Not being..." He stopped, staring down that dog who'd lay down now, chewing a bone. The dog kept his eye on everyone. Every so often he'd lean over and take a sip of that water. Go back to chewing...never changing his focal point of the visitors.

"Not being what?"

"Not being submissive enough. We had to show our place, pay him the right kinda respect in public. Do what he said. I didn't mind though 'cause nobody would touch us so long as we belonged to Manning. 'Cause if someone did touch us...there'd be hell to pay."

"Did that ever happen as far as you know?"

He smiled, said nothing. George was kneeling at another cage, letting one of the dogs lick his knuckles through the fence.

"I'm not sure if I should say," Ty said in a low voice. "I mean...I don't want to get him in more trouble."

"I'm his lawyer." Tea noticing that he was missing a tooth. She thought instinctively of Diego.

After a minute or so of internal battle, he said, "Well, one of us got assaulted in the shower whiles Todd was in solitary. What was that fucker's name? Vinnie...Vincent...something...oh wait...Liminski. Ha! Vlad Liminski. Russian dude took a liking to Jimenez...took him down in the showers. Put the kid in medical. Big motherfucker. When Manning got out, he heard about it. Never forget the look on Manning's face when he came back from the clinic. He walked right up to Liminski. Looked him up and down and told that guy he was gonna die for what he did. Liminski tried to get it on with Manning, made a big show, but...the thing was broken up. All that afternoon, Manning just stared down Liminski, looking just like Breaker here...the way he just watches. See?"

Ty had that right - the dog chewed away, but his intense gaze remained tight on Ty, George and Tea.

Ty turned and began walking towards the exit. "Yeah, just like that. If you ever found yourself at the end of Manning's stare...you were gonna be fucked up, gar-on-teed. Next afternoon," he said, "that asshole was shanked in the yard by his own people for snitching. Ugly, man. We all knew better. I knew better."

"Why you?"

Grinning that impish grin, "'Cause I was the one who told Liminski's people about it. That's how we got Kenny McNair. I told them we had info they'd want, but it was big. They gave us Kenny, and I told them that Liminski had ratted out one of their henchmen in a killing." Ty ran his finger across his throat, intimating the death of Liminski.

Tea knew McNair's name, one of Todd's workers. Not an alibi, low on her list. Tea thanked Ty for all his help. They were counting on him. George gave him more of their cards.

All the while, as they chatted, Tea watched that broken black dog in the back. He never let go of her gaze. Watched, watched, watched.

Right before they were about to leave, Ty pulled Tea aside, asked, "Is he still like that? Still pissed off?"

Tea smiled, "A little. But time helps...it's been three years since he's been out. Maybe Breaker needs more time."

"Yeah...you tell him hi for me. Tell him to come visit." The young man who was still a boy smiled, and Tea sighed. Wished he had people to love...but in looking around, he seemed to have found a place in this world, where he could just be...and nobody could hurt him.

All the way home, all Tea could think about was how that dog could not be fixed. She had a hard time forgetting that choked, cut-off growl. She worried now...maybe her husband could never be "fixed." And if that was the case, what then?

What then.

**To be continued...**


	11. Chapter 11

**Caged** **Chapter 11**

Rule on loved ones - they will always be weaknesses, but prison can bring out far greater ones.

_From day one, Todd told his family not to come. He'd see George Strauss, his lawyer, for obvious reasons, and Bo Buchanan because he helped make life easier. Bo had gotten him the library job, arranged for his workers to be his cellmates, and watched out for his family. Todd wrote letters to his beloveds to make up for not seeing them. It had to be that way. It hurt too much to see them, and he didn't want the cons to know what his family looked like or see his joy at being with them._

_One afternoon in the yard, a small four-person propeller plane dropped dramatically close to the ground, flying fast and noisy. The sight thrilled the cons, and like kids, they whoooped and yelled, running with it as it flew above their heads. The pilot looked out and waved his hand out a small window, giving an old fashioned thumbs up. The scene was brilliant, and wildly illegal. _

_From the bleachers, Todd smiled, because he just knew it was Jedediah. Hoped his kid wouldn't get his license yanked, or worse. He watched that white plane bank and then fade into the clouds. When it was gone from sight and he could no longer hear its engine, he took the near-done cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on the inside of his wrist, his eyes closing in a brief instant of ecstatic escape._

_The next week, Jedediah tried to see him two days in a row and both times, Todd refused._

_After the third time of refusing Jedediah, Todd had a seizure in his cell during the night. Ty Jerome was his cellmate at the time and he'd woken up to Todd making terrible noises and the bunk shaking hard. The kid had climbed down and was shocked to see what was happening. He froze. Watched the thing finally slow down. He remembered something from his childhood and tentatively turned Todd to his left side so he wouldn't choke on his tongue, whatever that meant. The kid moved to the cell door. Silent, silent. Todd had told him that this might happen. He wasn't allowed to call anyone. Todd didn't seem to be breathing though so Ty turned him again and that was when Todd gasped and seemed to wake up. _

"_Hey, Manning," Ty said, trying to be quiet, "Manning...you okay? Shit!"_

_Todd stared blankly at him, confused, trying to say something but saying nothing, dripping with sweat. Ty cleaned up his face of sweat and saliva, glad to do a little something nice for his strange tormenting protector without getting his face punched. Todd then slipped into a deep sleep while Ty lay awake the rest of the night._

_The next morning, Todd didn't get out of bed because he was still in that dead-to-the-world state of mind. Ty said nothing to the guards, shrugging. The guards poked Todd until he stirred and he mumbled something about being sick so he was sent to medical._

_There, the doctor once again offered meds, Todd refusing them, and once again the disorder was kept off the books. They let him sleep more. Soon he was awakened by an attendant. "You feel good enough for a visitor?"_

_He was weak and hungry and defenseless. And because of that, he said yes to seeing Jedediah, the first in a pivotal series of events that he would never be able to take back._

_The sight of his son sitting at the visitor table across the room brought a small smile to his face and Jedediah got tearful, instinctively. They weren't allowed to hug, so Jed just held the table, Todd seeing the kid's white knuckles. But the kid got fearful next, eying the limp Todd had. Todd tried not to think of how he looked otherwise, sure he looked the mess he felt in his wrinkled white tee and the uniform blue sweats. At least the hair was pulled back. For all the beauty Jed had, Todd had to be the total opposite. He could see it in Jed's face, in the look of worry._

"_You got hurt, Dad? Your leg...what happened? You sick?"_

_Todd shook his head, mutely telling Jed to never mind. He sat and just gazed at his beloved. His son looked older, his beard having come in. The kid showed off the fact by not shaving, wearing stubble. Todd knew the kid looked like him, but Jedediah lacked the bottomless pit of hate in his soul. The kid had been hurt in life, but not gutted. He had edge, but not the kind that would kill. _

_After some minutes of quiet, Jedediah grinned, asked in a gentle voice, "Hey Pops, did you see me fly over?"_

"_Yeah...watched from the yard." He paused, a look of concern falling over his features, "Did you...uh..." The words disappeared in typical post-seizure blankness, but Todd found them again. "Did you get in trouble?"_

"_No, I'm just that good."_

_Todd chuckled softly, then said, "Don't tell anyone you got in...to see me."_

"_You broke your rule. How come?"_

"_Four days in a row...I was...worried. You okay? Everything ok?"  
><em>

"_Yeah, yeah...definitely. I should have just done this earlier. Coming in so many times. Had I known..." _

_Todd smiled a little. _

"_Look," Jed continued, "I just wanted to tell you in person that I got my commercial pilot's license. I'm gonna work for R.J. Gannon, doing delivery of his liquor. Going international. Crazy, yeah?"_

_Todd reached out and held his son by the side of his head, his hand flat on the boy's soft, rich golden hair. Locked eyes with him, tightly, "Proud of you." Even more firmly, his hand tighter on the boy's head, he said, "Be careful with R.J."_

"_I will...he's good. Really."_

_They talked a little more, delicious chit-chat about the family, their lives, much the same of what they said in letters. Then, Jedediah said he wanted to see Todd more often than once every three years. Todd said he'd consider it. Looked around the room, not liking Jedediah being here. Thinking Statesville would rub off on his son. Thinking someone would follow him home and kill him in retaliation for Todd's prison doings. His beautiful son. _

_Todd's face crumpled with indecision. But he shook it off, pulling on a mood, a look, like a costume. His face got hard, his jaw muscles tight, working. His eyes lost their misted look of restrained love._

"_Maybe, but don't tell Tea. Don't tell anyone. Come in a month. No sooner. No guarantees."_

_Jed grinned, "Okay. Deal." But he could see Todd looking around, could see the edges of fear in his eyes. Jed knew Todd was still in his mid-thirties or so...but today he looked much older than that. Lines had developed around his stark hazel eyes, and a fair amount of grey hair had mixed with the gold-brown hair. Jed laid his hand on Todd's, Todd looking at that, then up at his son._

"_Pops, I'm alright, you know." He bent his head, spoke quietly, "I lived on the streets, I know these kinds of people. I deal with them...now. Outside. I can take care of myself, and your other kids. Starr, Lucia. I promise you. Being here...isn't going to hurt me."_

_The boy's voice wasn't that of a boy anymore. Jedediah had grown into a man, having left behind his teenage years. _

_Todd maintained that hard look on his face, nodded. Said words softly, "But it hurts me, Jed." _

_The kid got sad at that, saying in a quiet voice, "I love you, Pops. You...uh...got me where I am. If it wasn't for you...all that bad stuff, Kevin Buchanan never would have come looking. But...even so, it was you who kept me in Llanview, Tea for stepping in. You've been my father in every way. Especially these last three years. Even from here..."_

_One last gaze at his son, and he nodded a goodbye. No more words having to be spoken. Got to his feet. What he wanted was to grab Jed into his arms, and never let go. Before he disappeared behind the door, he looked at Jedediah still sitting at the table. The kid smiled slightly, but it disappeared. He looked small, sad, and vulnerable. If Jedediah landed here, he'd be eaten alive, man or no. _

_And that's what did it._

_Turning, Todd walked out, a bloom of rage coming to life, not at his son, but FOR his son. For all the kids in this place being eaten alive by the likes of Jessie Horenda. He knew he should have felt something else at the visit, felt inspired to be...good...but he didn't. _

_The next morning, Todd woke shaking and ill with a decision. Today was the day he'd kill Horenda. Seeing his son gave him dreams all night, nightmares of Peter Manning abusing Jed, Phillip Manning abusing Lucia. He vomited, the beginnings of withdrawal starting. Heroin had gotten scarce. There'd been nothing to dull the pain of seeing Jed in person, seeing the years he'd missed with his kids and wife on the changed face of his beautiful boy. _

_He shoved a lethal shank into his shoe. Went through the motions of showering, eating, group therapy. Worked only an hour in the library, sending kids with info to get him cigarettes. The therapist had seen that Todd had the sweats, a bit of the shakes, and a runny nose. Cornered him. Todd lied and said that yeah, he'd seen the light and was giving up the dope. Praise the Lord, doncha fuckin' know._

_He stalked Horenda all that day, into the afternoon, watching, watching, watching, like a mad dog. The kids tried talking to him a little and he hardly heard the words. They, and everyone else, stayed away from him because they knew there is nothing more dangerous than Manning when he's kicking. _

_Finally Horenda separated from his people, and Todd followed him. Followed him until Horenda was alone behind a building with one of his victims. One of the few hidden places in Statesville. Horenda was fucking one of the Serrano whores in the ass, a small kid, no more than eighteen, who dressed like a woman with makeup and long hair in braids. The kid held on to pipes to stay on his feet. It wasn't easy because Horenda was a big fat motherfucker and used all his strength to tear up these kids._

_Todd stood nearby with the shank in his hand, just out of sight. Watched the violent sex act. The hate tasted like blood, sounded like an ocean's roar, and smelled like shit. His cock hardened with the rush of Horenda's impending death, the thought of bathing in the fucker's own blood making him higher than a pure shot of dope. Not giving a damn about the whore or any other witness or about any consequences, he was ready. Diego deserved this much. With that, he ran towards Horenda, flying at him like a fucking bat out of hell. _

_He hooked his arm around Horenda's throat and pulled him off the kid, pulling him to the ground, smashing him hard against the broken asphalt. He kicked the half-naked Horenda in the balls, two, three times, and then in the head. He jumped on the breathless, groaning Horenda, straddling him, and slashed at his throat, back and forth, but couldn't quite get where he needed to because Horenda's hands went up. Jessie managed to push Todd off him, but Todd went right back at him like a wrestler, pounding the him back to the ground. Managed to shove that shank deep into Horenda's side, getting the motherfucker coward to shout out in agony. Todd yanked the knife out and lifted it in the air, intending to just start stabbing away at Jessie's chest._

_And he would have done it but for the MK soldiers that came out of fucking nowhere and pulled the raging, eerily silent Todd off Horenda, sending Horenda scuttling away like a rat escaping a trap. The whore had long disappeared. It took a full ten minutes for Todd to even begin to stop fighting the two men who held him. Ernesto came around the corner, Rolon at his side. _

_A panting Todd just growled wordlessly at the tall Cuban leader in front of him, still jerking and pulling like the mad dog he was. The men who held him were the biggest men in MK and they were struggling at Todd's unbelievably deceptive strength._

"Basta..._ENOUGH." Ernesto reached back and punched Todd hard on the side of his head to calm him down, finding he had to do it again. Todd finally went slightly limp in the two men's grip. Ernesto grabbed Todd's hair to lift his head up, locking eyes with him, "You've become important to us. And now you've fucked it all up. The Serranos are going to take vengeance on you now. Do you understand that?"_

_He found his voice again, getting to his feet more firmly. "Dying would have been worth it."_

"_What did that fucker do to you?"_

"_He did enough!"_

_Ernesto seemed to catch on to something, glancing at Rolon, hissing, "You said he didn't fuck these kids."_

"_He doesn't," Rolon growled. "He has a need for them but not like THAT."_

"_I don't believe it. He's too..."_

_Ernesto didn't get a chance to say the rest of the words because Todd kicked him in the crotch so hard that the big man fell to his knees and threw up. That got Todd a beating from hell. Ten minutes later, Todd was on his side, bleeding from his mouth, ribs cracked, and panting from pain. He managed to get on all fours, spitting blood and dirt. He tried to stand but couldn't, finally just lying on his side, like fuckin' roadkill._

"_If you want to live, Manning, you only got one choice..." Ernesto huffed, kneeling on the ground, the pain still obviously present._

_Todd laughed drunkenly, "Big motherfucker, soft _huevos, _yeah?"_

_Someone kicked him in the face for that. Todd now lay flat on his back, watching the moving clouds in the sky, unconsciousness still evading him. His arms and legs spread out, done._

"_We can protect you from the Serranos, we'll protect your kids. We're willing to do it. We'll even figure out what to do with Horenda. If you come with us."_

"_Fuck you. Fuck your _puta _of a mother_. _Fuck all y'all."_

"_Without us, you will die. And so will your workers, one by one."_

_Todd looked at the man, eyed Rolon. "I'm a dead man anyway - so are they."_

"_If you come with us, you will have a family here in Statesville. A family for life. You won't be alone anymore, Manning."_

_They'd learned his weakness. He thought it was his wife, his children, the seizures, his love of heroin, but no...it was his alone-ness, his fear of it. His innate and burning desire for belonging had always been his biggest weakness. _

"_We can protect your blood family on the outside, your acquired family on this side of the fence." Ernesto sat back, the pain subsiding. He said, "You're one of us, Blanco. You've been one of us since you first got here and gave us what we needed against the Aryan bastards that killed our right hand. When you called him by his given name, El Brujo...it was like God brought you to us. Not many outside MK knew that name. God spoke to us through you, allowed us to take righteous revenge."_

"_There is no God."_

"_Yes there is, _hermano_...I see God every time you stand up after getting your ass beat. I see Him in your face when you teach lessons to those _maricones _that hurt your kids. You got MK heart, man. You're magic...like a goddamn GOD. I have seen it, _lo he visto con mis propios ojos_. With my own fuckin' eyes. You belong with us." _

_Above him, the sky greyed, black crept up on him. He begged in his head to slip all the way into darkness but it wouldn't happen. He tasted blood. He covered his face with his bloodied hands. Thought of Jedediah, Lucia...Diego. _

Send them to hell, Manning.

_Slowly he sat up, putting his knees up. Spit more blood on the ground, watched a stream of red puddle inches below his hanging, stringy damp hair. He snorted his runny noise loudly. Spit again. He eyed the men. The image of Horenda pushing in and out of the boy made him sick. He gagged._ _Breathed deeply to stop from puking. Diego's weak voice echoed in his head._

I am nothing, always will be nothing. Dust to dust, you know? _There was nothing he could say to give Diego a reason to go on. _Let me feel what you feel...just this once before it goes black, yeah? Please...let me know one moment of happy.

"_Private word with you and Rolon?" Todd murmured. Ernesto agreed, chasing off the soldiers. Todd got to his feet. It was just the three. _

_Looking at Ernesto, Todd said, "You'll help me finish off Horenda."_

"_Yes."_

"_You'll let me do my business in peace, then. And that means you leave me to the Jamaicans, the Ricans, any people I choose to deal with. You got no fuckin' say."_

"_Yes, so long as we come first. _Primero_."_

"_As you been. People can't know I'm part of MK 'cause it'll hurt my ability to get information. I won't be able to help YOU."_

"_No color?"_

"_No color."_

_Ernesto thought about it, looking at the tats Todd already had. "No, we need blood." _

_Rolon spoke up, "We'll work the letters. Been done before. Hide them in new ink, something his own. That way others won't know, but we will. HE will."_

_Ernesto paused, studying his own bloodied fist, then agreed. "That will work."_

"_One last...you help me teach my kids to protect themselves. So when I leave, or die, they'll survive."_

"_Te prometo."_

"_You don't pull 'em into MK though. You got that? They stay with me...but not this. Never this."_

"_Yes, we will leave them."_

_Todd eyed Rolon, Ernesto again. It was strange how he simply let go in that moment. Gave up his desperate need for control, gave up his refusal to fall into line like the rest of rats in Statesville. God, it was the one thing he wasn't willing to do...join a gang. But he was condemned, a dead man. Fuck. He was so tired of fighting alone. Seeing Jedediah in the flesh made him want to go home. He wouldn't make it there on his own. Not anymore._

_So he let Ernesto put the MK noose around his neck. Deep inside he knew this feeling of letting go, giving up. From way, way back...at some point, a rape victim just lets it happen. When he quit battling Peter Manning, when he moved his body to help things along, he got more sleep. _

"_Okay," he said softly._

"_Repeat after me, Blanco," Ernesto said, "'Toma mi vida al Mambo Kings.' I give my life to MK."_

_Todd swallowed the pit of hate and vengeance and sorrow in his throat. "Toma mi vida al Mambo Kings."_

_Ernesto smiled, "We give our lives to you, _El Diablo Blanco_. Welcome to MK, Mr. Manning."_

_And so it was that Todd became a member of Mambo Kings...the biggest...baddest...snakes in Statesville._

* * *

><p>Ever since leaving Ty Jerome's ragged kennel, she felt Todd's weight on her, as if he wore the concrete of the block walls, the metal of the bars. She felt herself slipping beneath that...weight. In her head, she reminded herself of the twelve steps of Al-Anon, the codependency group. That was her...losing herself to him. She knew it was wrong, said it was wrong...but she watched herself dig in. Deep.<p>

All the way home, writing in her notebook, she pulled every bit of information George Strauss had on her husband off the top of his head. He complied.

"I'm not staying in the dark anymore," she had explained. "I'm done with that. I'm not a delicate flower he needs to protect."

George bowed to her, agreeing to set up a meeting early in the week and lay out all "the shit in his drawers," his words not hers. The one thing he especially apprised her of were the local MK watering holes, the places Todd slithered through during his "absent" hours. All of them, very hot little clubs, one or two obvious, the others, underground, illegal.

A little part of her suddenly sprang to life, the jealous part. Todd had never been the philandering type, but that was before Brandy, before Statesville. That was before he'd developed a taste for sex as an alternative addiction. She looked at George as he drove, stone-faced. He glanced at her quickly, shaking his head like a disappointed school principal. "You wanted to know...you're gonna have to live with what you learn. You ready for that, little lady?"

"Don't little lady me...I can handle it. It's him who's going to have it rough."

Tea checked her cell, not finding any messages nor missed calls. When she arrived home, Viki was there, Todd having left the house, having called his beloved sister to watch the children because it was the nanny's night off. Viki was right in the foyer and pulled Tea aside before Tea could reach the children, "He took off fast, with hardly a look at us. He was definitely in a mood. I'm a bit worried...it's been a long time since I've seen him that way."

"I know...things are difficult right now. You've spoken to Bo?"

"No, he's sort of closed-mouthed when it comes to Todd."

"Well, Bo is onto something and...it might get bad."

Viki, knowing the complexities of her brother, didn't push. "Okay."

"I'm going to go get him. Can you...?"

"We'll get the children to bed, don't you worry. Starr said she wanted to stay over. She'll hold down the fort."

She hugged her sister-in-law, kissed her babies, said her goodbyes. Then she showered and changed. Dressed a little, putting on a cha-cha blouse with some slick, well-fitting slacks. Got her high heels. She knew Todd well, how to get his attention...and now that she learned of the MK spots, she needed to look the part. He'd see her. She'd make sure of it.

When she closed the front door of the house, ready to hit those hot spots, shot in the dark it was, she ran smack into Jedediah Chant. For the briefest second, Tea thought it was Todd, but no...Jedediah had similar features, height, build, but he carried himself differently. Lighter. Now that she looked at him in his dark clothes and leather jacket, she thought less of their differences and more of their similarities.

"Hey, wow, where the hell are you going?" He looked her up and down, a curious expression on his face.

"Look, little man, I'm on a mission. Out of my way."

Jedediah stepped in front of her, back and forth so she couldn't go around him.

"What's wrong with you?" She snapped, not liking his serious expression or the knowing look in his eyes. "Jed...I'm going to find him, and bring him home. The world is a dangerous place right now."

"Ok...well, I know where he is." It wasn't exactly guilt that was pouring off of him, but more of a responsibility. He rubbed his lips together. "Tea, I almost always know where he is. All you have to do is ask me."

She stepped back, stunned, not sure she heard him right. "Why? Why is that?"

Jed looked every bit of his 25 years, and a few years beyond that. Said in a hushed voice, "'Cause a long time ago, I made it a priority to take care of all of you. I love the guy more than anything, but I've never trusted him. So I watch him. I watch everything he does. I know..._everything." _ He growled the last word. And Tea locked eyes with him.

"You know about..." She didn't want to say more, just in case.

Bending close to her, he whispered, his voice scratchy with damnation, "_MK for fuckin' life_."

"Jesus...oh Jed." She reached to him, placing her hand on his chest, feeling like he'd hit her. He put his hand on hers.

"You know I visited him there, yeah?"

"No...I had an inkling though."

"Well, I saw how he'd changed. Saw these brief connections in the visitor's room that he never had before. I saw them. Then the new tats. Something wasn't right. So I went to R.J. We learned about MK together through the Jamaicans he knew inside. Since then...I keep up with Pops the best I can. And if I can't, R.J. does, best _he_ can. Todd is good, I'll give him that...he's fuckin' hard to track." He paused, looked around, added, "But I'm better."

For some reason, that frightened Tea for Jed. What he was saying was that he hovered around his father, the MK people, and whoever else...and that...was dangerous.

Jedediah sniffed, "Tea, stay home. I'll do my thing. I'll make sure he gets home."

"Don't talk down to me, Jedediah Chant. If I'm going to stay married to this man, I need to know what the hell I'm dealing with. I need to see him, see him where he LIVES."

A soft, urging voice hit her, "Tea, he's going to be very angry at me if I take you, if he sees you there."

"Either you take me directly, or I search high and low until I find him. George gave me a list. I'll find him."

He scraped his foot against the floor, thinking about it. He eyed her, "I told you where he was, that motel. With Brandy. Do you remember? Do you hate me for that? Finding what you did."

She smiled at him, "Oh Jedediah, no...of course not. I was so grateful that you DID tell me. This has nothing to do with you. Todd is his own..." She sighed. "He is his own disaster." She held his cheek, pulled him into a hug. "I love you."

"You're not staying here, are you?"

In her sweetest, most tender voice, she said to her beloved child of her own beloved husband, "You will have to kill me to stop me."

Well, Tea was always determined. He didn't have much choice if he wanted her to be safe. "Fine," he said. "I'll drive."

And off they went into the darkness, expecting nothing, expecting..._everything._

**To be continued...**

Note from the author: Do let me know if you wish for me to continue posting chapters here at !


	12. Chapter 12

**Caged** **Chapter 12**

The Francis Club was a basement bar that had no outside signs, gave no indication that the heavy wooden door in the alley led to anything special in that the old Sixteenth Street building. The only possible hint might have been the nicely dressed people sneaking around the corner.

Tea sighed, history running hard through her. Sixteenth Street, the seediest part of Llanview, was home to the prostitutes, drug dealers, addicts, pawn shops, run-down tenements, coffee shops, and methadone clinics. The needle exchange truck was parked cozily on one of the alleys. She remembered this place all too well...

It had been over eight years now since she'd followed Todd's trail, leading her here to Brandy's dark, dark world. Tea had worked very hard over the years to try to forget the images he gave her, those pinned heroin eyes, the delicate eating he'd do because the drugs took away his appetite, the sight of Brandy blowing in his unconscious face to keep him breathing. She could still feel bones beneath his skin, see his desperate dope sickness. She worked hard to forget his repeated sinking into the hell of this place. She never could.

_What you want, baby?_

That was a lifetime ago, before Lucia. That was a life of which she still did not know the details. Much like Statesville.

Jedediah watched Tea as she glanced around. "You okay?"

"Yes, yes...just remembering things I'd prefer not to." She stopped Jed..."He comes here, then. Sixteenth Street. Again. Jed..."

"I know."

"Does he have someone else, like..._her_? Tell me. I know it's ridiculous because him being with another woman would be the LEAST of our problems right now." She chuckled, but then didn't. She was desperate in this moment. Desperate fear.

Jedediah shook his head, but then admitted, "Tea, I know his doings, but not all of them. I have never trusted him. But I know he loves you, and..."

"He never stopped loving me all the while he was..._with_ Brandy. He is very good at separating himself into bits and pieces." She shook her head, "It's okay, never mind. Let's just go."

Jedediah knocked on the heavy door and like out of a movie, a screen slid open in the center of the door. A dark face looked out and winked. "Chant...long time no see, come on in."

The door opened and the massive bodyguard eyed Tea up and down, "Holy smokes, Chant...you're way out of your league." He laughed heartily, smacking Jed on the shoulder who grinned and put his arm around Tea.

"Yeah, well...I always aim high, bro."

The guy laughed harder, catching Jed's pun about flying.

"Go on in, my friend. And give my regards to Gannon."

"You got it."

"Welcome, miss," the large man then said to Tea in a voice befitting the guard of a castle. "Welcome to the Francis Club."

The man bowed and waved them in, the darkness laid out before them, reminding Tea of a circle of hell. They walked down a couple of dark halls, the music getting louder as they went. Jazz with a modern flair, even a touch of salsa. The air grew smokier which right away proved to her the illegal status of the place.

Tea murmured, "Does he know you come here?"

"Yeah, he does. I know his people, Tea. He won't be surprised to see me. You, on the other hand..."

They walked a little further until they came to a thick drape of red velvet, parted slightly. Light now came through, the music catchy, a medium beat. Neither fast nor slow. Tea swallowed, glancing down at her sexy outfit, not feeling that sexy anymore...just strangely anxious about who she'd find in this club, about who Todd was...away from her...now.

The two slipped inside and took up a table nearby. The place was filled with a great variety of people, young and mid-range, all colors, but Tea couldn't make out anything as of yet. A pretty waitress with long black hair and glittery make-up came by and Jedediah ordered Tea's signature drink of a vodka and tonic. He ordered a beer. Cuban. The girl wore a tight dress, showing off her curves and a lot of luscious skin. The girl eyed Tea before walking away.

"Where is he?" Tea asked Jed, sucking down her drink. Fast. Needing the relief.

"You'll see him."

Jedediah watched the crowd with an intensity that reminded Tea much of Ty's black dog, taking in his sharp hazel eyes, eyes that missed nothing. His face had lost its boyish softness, and Tea realized...this was his world. He knew these places. She reached to him, grasping his arm. He never had a chance at innocence. He'd grown up a long time ago. He didn't react much to Tea's touch, keeping an eye out.

She flagged a waitress and got another vodka and tonic. The drink came quickly and Tea drank it, too fast. She felt the drink, breathed in the lightness that ran through her. Briefly shut her eyes at the altered state of mind discouraged by...alcoholics anonymous. She needed that, she thought. She loved the feeling, she thought.

Tea followed where Jed was looking, through the smoke, through the people. And like a sea finally parting, a straight line opened up in front of her and she spotted Todd. He was at a round table in the far corner of the room, playing a game of cards. Looked like poker. He was dressed in black, his good clothes, high end jeans, long sleeved, narrow fitting cotton button-down from Italy. Tea knew the maker. His favorite. He didn't smile much, throwing down money. The men near him laughed easily, Latino men. A couple of women sat in seats behind some of them. Whores. Tea didn't doubt that they were all Cuban.

Except for Todd.

One older man seemed to hold the most power in that group, and he paid special attention to Todd. Lots of glances, claps on the shoulder, and gentle laughter at things Todd said which wasn't often. It was clear they had a close relationship. At one point, the older man pulled Todd close to him, speaking more seriously. Todd looked at him intensely before shaking his head. Disagreeing, or disregarding, what he was being told. The man nodded, Todd then refocusing on the hand of cards.

Tea leaned to Jed, "Who is that man, talking to Todd?"

"Pedro Moreno. He's the leader of the Northeastern branch of MK."

"The leader, did you say?

Jedediah, gravely, said, "Yeah. He's in deep, Tea."

"My god." Tea drank her drink, "Jed, I worry about you here."

"No worries. I'm good. Really." He smiled at her, Tea returning her gaze across the room.

Todd, funny enough, rather stuck out with his lighter hair, his lighter skin. But the look on his face, the scar on his cheek that seemed to cut deeper than it used to...well, he looked like THEM. All with hard features, faces that seemed to hold a lot of dark secrets. He finally threw in the cards, folding. Shook his head and put his hands up. All out. He grabbed a glass of scotch and downed it. He didn't look like himself. He wasn't sad, or weighted. Not happy either. Or entertained. Or content.

He was just..._being_.

He looked like he did when he was at home, with just a little more...darkness? No...it was power. He sat at that table with blatant, observable power in a way he kept hidden when alone with the family or in public. The way he sat, the way he eyed the men in front of him. It was clear that his position to the right of the older man was a position of power, preference. The proverbial right-hand man. In deep, was right.

The same waitress that served Jedediah and Tea, a petite thing, walked up to the table of men. They laughed and commented, made their orders of drinks. Her hand lay on her hip and she said witty things that made the men roar. Todd didn't. He just looked her up and down, drinking his drink, his elbow on the table now, leaning into his hand. He reached in front of him and shook a cigarette out of a pack. Stuck it into his mouth. Keeping it unlit. As she walked away, Todd tipped his head and leaned slightly, to watch her sway her hips. The cigarette moved from one side of his mouth to the other. She turned at the last minute, catching him. She smiled, pulling a bit of her lip in between teeth. He shrugged, smiled just barely. Caught. Tea got scared at that. Afraid of what this place was, whether he'd drifted just so far away from her.

Jed looked at Tea, "You ready to go? You want me to go get him? You seen enough?"

Before Tea could answer, a younger man bumped into the table with Tea and Jedediah, Jed getting ruffled, getting to his feet. "Hey, asshole!"

"Sorry, man...so sorry, I uh..." He looked at Tea and smiled, "May I...please...please have this dance, _senorita?"_

Jedediah, ever the bodyguard snapped, "No! Get the fuck away!" The man took that in, evaluating Jed. But before the guy could decide, Tea spoke up.

Spurred on by the little waitress, Todd liking what he saw, and the cocktails on an empty stomach, she said, "Don't pay attention _a_ _mi hijo. _Absolutely, I'd love to dance."

Jedediah shook his head, his mouth open a little in surprise. He waved his hand in Todd's direction and hissed, "Tea...come on...this isn't Carlotta's on salsa night!"

"Jed! I need this!" She bent and kissed his cheek. The man laughed and offered his hand, Tea taking it gracefully and walking with him to the dance floor.

Drinking the rest of the beer, Jedediah burst into a package of nerves. "Oh shit...shit, shit, shit..." This was NOT how it was supposed to go down. She was playing with fire.

The two began a slow, easy dance, her back to him, her face turned to him. He smiled and held her by the waist. They rocked, and swayed, and Tea let herself get lost, releasing the weight that she'd been carrying all day, for days. The room moved around her deliciously.

Across the way, Jedediah watched the two nervously. He drank another beer, his eyes bouncing between the two. Todd on one side, sitting with the men, watching the remainder of the game, and Tea on the dance floor. Todd hadn't seen her yet. He was completely engulfed in his drink, the cigarette, and the game.

All Jed could think was...disaster.

The waitress came back and sat on Todd's lap, getting the men to laugh a bit. She put her arm around him and he let her, sitting back on the seat to look at her. She really flirted hard, her hands all over him. He eyed her and smiled...but it was fake. Jed could tell Todd wasn't into it. Not like other times when he was drunker, when he was...in a different mind-set. Not tonight. In classic Manning tradition, he pushed her away. Gently. Ordering some more scotch by shaking the empty glass at her. Went back to his now-lit cigarette. Re-engaged in a talk to Pedro Moreno.

The old man kicked back with a fat cigar, eying the dance floor. He spotted something and leaned down to Todd, telling him to look at the dance floor. Todd turned casually, scanning the crowd. But then Pedro changed his mind, his hand touching Todd's shoulder.

But it was too late.

Todd saw Tea dancing, slow and sexy, but it was obvious he wasn't sure it was her. He leaned to see around people. His face one of curiosity, perplexity. He ignored Pedro. Really curious, focused, like a bird dog, he got to his feet. One of the men stood, too, his hand in his jacket. They were all looking now. Serious as hell. Pedro shot them all looks to sit the fuck down and got to his feet, trying to get Todd to return to the table, but he was gone. There wasn't any moving of this train.

Tea moved back and forth in the crowd, turning and swinging. She laughed, a drink in her hand now, sipping it back. Her dancing partner swung her, touched her body as they danced. She looked beautiful, sexy as hell, and boy was she using it. Jedediah stood up, knowing where this was going. Todd took steps towards the floor, one purposeful step at a time. Pedro nodded at one of the men to get close and a big guy got up, walked towards the floor. They all seemed to know Todd...oh so well. And it almost seemed that they knew Tea, too.

Todd stopped searching, his face changing. And then...pow...like a bomb went off...he fucking KNEW it was his wife on that dance floor.

He glanced at the old man, and then began to stalk across the floor in all that blackness. Jedediah flew from his table, making his way through the crowd, getting closer and closer to the sweet spot between the swinging Tea and the stalking Todd...

And WHOOSH...Todd took two, three steps, curled his hand into a fist, reached back and smacked the hell out of the dancing fool who had his hands all over his wife, the guy collapsing to the floor like an unstrung puppet. Todd dropped to his knees, grabbed the dancer's collar and punched him two, three times, blood bursting in a pop of red. Jedediah grabbed Todd, yelling at him to quit, trying to drag him off the guy. When Jed uttered a hard, "Holy shit," at the mind-blowing immovability of his father, the soldiers laughed.

Jedediah was moved off like the lightest of feathers and the big MK soldier grabbed Todd around his torso and yanked hard, Todd finally away from the dancer. The music never stopped. The other dancers never stopped. This was normal for the Francis Club.

Jedediah scrambled over to Tea, pushing her back, hiding her. Blood poured from the man's face and he got to his feet, pulling out a knife. Screaming at Todd to bring it on, Todd grinning, more like baring his teeth, and trying to get away from the soldier, but there was no way. The MK men warned the knife wielder, "You don't want to do that, _cabron!" _ Another said, "Don't want to fight _Blanco _with a knife!" They all laughed hard and the guy looked at Todd up and down, disbelieving it despite having already been bested by him. But then, all Todd had was fists...and dancer had a knife. Math, right? People now slid away but the music kept on, loud and banging.

The soldiers inquired of Pedro who gave them a look of resignation and they let go of the mad dog. Todd moved forward a little, saying, "Come on. Try it." His hand flipping a bring-it motion. "Come on, bitch."

Jedediah turned to her, "Todd's going to kill him, Tea."

"Can't interrupt fighting dogs," she said, gritting her teeth.

"Tea, come on! Talk to him!"

She finally yelled, "Todd, stop! This is ridiculous!"

He glanced at her, talking over the knife-wielding stranger, "Aww it's a little fuckin' late now!"

The man jabbed at Todd, Todd moving out of the way. The guy looked around, nobody intervening. He jabbed again and again, pulling out all the stops, fast, fast, but Todd was faster, grabbing the man's wrist with one hand and punching the man's throat, dead center and hard as hell. Always a dirty move. The guy lost his footing, and the knife, grabbing his throat and gasping for air. Todd had the knife now and just as the guy was going down, Todd had him by the neck in one arm, facing Tea, the knife now poised at the man's throat. The man was an outsider, nobody coming to his rescue. The soldiers laughed, hooted at the loser. Pedro wasn't laughing.

Doing his best impression of a gladiator, Todd looked at Tea, and she shook her head. "Let him go, Manning." Todd dropped the guy hard. The man scrambling away. Todd eyed the soldiers and they nodded, following him out.

Tea stood behind the men, stewing, drinking her drink. Trying to look unimpressed. The dog had brought her a dead bird.

Todd pocketed the knife, and walked towards Tea. The fun was over and he was pissed. But there were people in between, Jed and the soldiers. Pedro came up behind Todd, "You good, _Blanco_?"

The music switched beats, picking up its pace.

"I want to talk to my wife - move the goons."

"You will treat her right, _verdad_? And your son? They are innocents."

Todd looked at Pedro, ratcheting down the hate, "Yes. _Te prometo."_

"Good man. Come back when you're done. We'll talk more about this...war."

The men moved away, patting Todd on the shoulder as they left, leaving Tea and Jedediah open. Todd walked slowly towards Tea and Jed, now up against the wall, at another side table. The crowd filled in the dance floor as if nothing happened. The music just played on. Never having stopped.

Todd reached and picked up Tea's glass, eying how much was in it. "How many you drink of these?"

Smiling, "Oh Todd...really?"

"Three," Jedediah chimed in.

"More like four, Mr. Chant," Tea corrected. She squinted, putting a finger in the air, "Maybe one more after that."

Todd slammed the glass down on the table, turning to Jedediah, "What the hell are you doing, bringing her here? What the FUCK is wrong with you?"

"She wanted to know where you were, _Pops._" Jedediah was not going to back down. He was up close to his father's fury. Nothing new. "So I showed her. You want to hit _me_ for that?"

"Don't push me, Chant."

"Don't blame him," Tea said, her words slightly slurred. "I'm not a child. I'm done living under a rock-"

"Tea! This isn't safe for you! You have no idea what you're getting into...please, please...don't ever come here or anywhere else like this place without me. Ever." He was serious, his expression one of true pleading. It made her angry.

"And what chance did you give me on that point? You left without telling me where you were, without telling ANYONE. Todd...I need to know everything. All the garbage, all the shit you're dug into, everything. For our FAMILY!"

"I _am_ protecting you, our family...I promise that. But don't make it harder by putting yourself in more danger, woman!"

"Protecting me...like you've always protected me? Us? All those years in Statesville that you practically volunteered for? The time on Sixteenth Street...just upstairs... So tell me, Todd...who are you FUCKING these days? Who's Brandy's replacement? That waitress? Some other _Cubana_? Huh? I saw you look at that woman tonight, I KNOW you. I KNOW that look!"

Jed sighed, sitting on a tall stool. Todd just looked at him. Turned to Tea, leaning close to her. He ran his knuckles along her jaw line, the left hand with LOVE carved into it, "The only whore I'm fucking...is _you_."

Tea unleashed her own fury, slapping him hard across his face.

He licked the little blood she drew. His eyes dark and full of hate. He turned at that, walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Tea had her own hate sliding beneath her skin. She pressed a hand on Jedediah, "Damn it...walked right into that one. Bastard."

"Why'd you dance with that guy, Tea? Why?"

"Baby, this is way beyond that." Tea sighed. Drank the rest of the drink. "Come on. I need to deal with him."

They moved into the crowd, too, looking for Todd once again. It had been so long since Brandy and yet the memory of her still stung like a thousand bees. That was the truth. God, she was drunk and now it annoyed her. They caught sight of him, and he was headed out. They followed him, the outside's frigid air coming to meet them.

He walked fast down the alley, hitting an end. Standing there, looking down. Tea turned to Jedediah. "Wait here."

Todd turned when he heard her footsteps. He stood with his arms crossed. He'd calmed down considerably.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know what you were doing. You're in the Sixteenth Street district. I get it. It still hurts you...I get it."

"No more sneaking around," she said. "No more secrets."

"Tea...that's not going to happen. Not for a long while yet."

"But I'm in now. I may not know details yet...but I know enough. I'm ready for whatever you got. Bring it on. I handled the worst of this place with you. And I'm still here. I've heard the worst of you in Statesville...and I'm still here. Maybe that makes me stupid, or a chump, or...a masochist. But I'd like to think it's because I love you, and understand you. Deep down, you're a good man. I see it everyday and I know...that THAT is who you really are. My husband, a father, a friend."

"You're really drunk, woman."

"Yes, yes, I am. And I think I'm going to be sick..." She staggered to the wall, her hand out. Todd moved to her and pulled her hair back, his voice soft. "It's okay."

Tea threw up, her coughs quiet, making Todd chuckle, "Never fails to amaze...your puking in silence."

"Stop it..." Tea wept, spitting the taste out of her mouth.

He swept her up in his arms, "Come, _mi Tea bonita_. Tomorrow, I promise, I'll show you around my usual places. You won't have to use the hunting dog."

Jedediah heard that, "Hey..."

"Well, that's what you are, child of mine. What, you think I don't know you got me on your radar?"

"Yeah, whatever."

Todd kissed Tea's hair as they walked, and she put her head on his chest. "I love you, you know," she murmured, "I just love you."

"You love me too much. I don't deserve it."

When they got to the car, Jedediah's old 1969 Mustang, Jed got behind the driver's seat. Tea on the passenger side.

"Take her home."

"Wait, where are you going?" Tea asked, her hand grabbing Todd's arm.

"I got business to take care of...and I'm not going to tell you about it. Don't worry. It's here, downstairs. Nothing new."

"Todd...I'm scared for you. For us. I hate this place. The air, the stink."

"Delgado...I have to stay. This is how it is. Simple as that. You want to be a mob wife, then BE one. Live with the secrets."

"I can't! I can't leave you here! I'm not a child that you can just send home!"

He looked at her, his face softening, kneeling down to her level. "This is how it has to be. You do not know what you stepped into tonight." He looked down, "God, you have no idea." He pointed at Jed. "Take her home. And don't you come back. Don't you ever fucking do this again."

Jed eyed Todd, "You can call me whatever name you want, Pops, but you're right. I do have you on my radar. And I'm not gonna stop. I will never trust you. Ever."

His face got sad, "Good. Then take her home."

The car drove off, and Todd pulled out his cell. Dialed a number as he walked back to the Francis Club. The thing flew to voice mail. "Gannon, keep the hunting dog busy and safe, got me? If I see him again tonight, or any night, in any of the MK clubs...I will _fucking_ come after you."

* * *

><p>Downstairs, a <em>much<em> calmer Todd sat once again with Pedro. "I'm not going to apologize for tonight," he said, putting his scotch on the table. Shaking out a cigarette and lighting it. Pedro eyed him closely, taking in the demeanor of his bastard son. He'd watched him walk across the room, a let-down obvious.

"No reason to." Pedro looked at his watch, snapped his eyes to Todd. "Took your time getting down here."

Todd sniffed, drank his drink, ignoring the question.

They sat in the back of the room, their backs to the wall. The others had waded into the mix, some dancing with party girls, some having disappeared with whores, some returning home to wives, girlfriends, families. The two men watched the sea of people. Todd stared a while, yet looked at nothing. Turned to Pedro.

"Tea has no idea who that guy was. It...uh...scared me."

"I know."

"How'd you spot him?"

"Saw the goddamn tattoo on his neck."

"You think he targeted her?"

"No, I don't. A mere coincidence. He just wanted to dance with her...she's beautiful. Like a rose in a garbage dump. Hard to resist."

"You take care of him?"

"Of course. He's taking home an important message to his boss." He smiled a little, drinking his rum straight up. "Tea has a lot of spirit."

"You could say that. Stubborn."

"I like her. She stood by while you bloodied her partner, unmoved. Sipping her _mojito._" He laughed, a deep rumble. "She's good for you. And my god, man, she knows you. She knew how to get your...attention. Women are the downfall of the greatest men."

"Yeah. Except it could have gotten her killed. Both of them."

Pedro puffed on his cigar, "She didn't know. She just wanted you. I knew that was coming - you couldn't keep this from her for long." He paused to watch people. "Los Serranos are running scared. That's why they sent the drone in. They sense something is happening from our direction."

"We still working with the Posse? I mean, you think it's gonna work?"

"Yes, I think the Jamaicans can kill the war_._ I think that'll get Buchanan off our trail. Off yours."

The music thumped in the background, jazz gone, harder dance music taking its place. The drinks flowed. Todd sniffed, shook his head. Clearing it. The waitress eyed Todd and moved away. He watched her. Sniffed again. Watched her until she disappeared.

The old man put his hand on Todd's shoulder, gave him a gentle slap on the cheek. "You're using that drug. I can see it on you, I _hear_ it. You picked up with Leticia, again."

Todd looked away, puffed that cigarette. "Been a rough few days."

"Manning, this is not the time. That will bring more trouble that it's worth. That shit made you weak in prison, has kept you weak...don't let it happen again." Pedro looked hard at Todd. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Todd said in a soft voice. "I get it."

"You cannot be weak NOW."

He got it, but after a Serrano bastard nearly got to his beloveds, he needed something to alleviate the crippling fear he felt for his family. So on his way back down the smokey hallways, having just left his fuming, still-wounded wife and son, and god, god, seeing just how fucking vulnerable they were in the madness of his MK world, he saw the dark-haired waitress, Leticia. Made a knee-jerk decision to sink, sink into hell. Pulled her into the bathroom, locked the door, and hit her up because she peddled more than just drinks.

She smiled at him, hoping for more than his grateful gaze at her lips. She'd purred like a fucking cat, "_Blanco_...my beautiful angry _Blanco,_ I was hoping you'd talk to me tonight. I missed you."

She reached into her bag of tricks and poured a tiny package of powder onto her palm. And without thinking twice, he sniffed up the white stuff, licking the remnants off her skin. Kissing her palm when he was done. Looked into her dark eyes as he did that, signaling that he wanting something else from her.

She threw her arms around him as he leaned back against the sink, his head on the scratched-up mirror. Pressed her body in between his spread legs. Took his hands and put them on her round ass. She moved against him, expertly rolling her hips in a soft dancing motion, grinning when she felt him respond. She used his body for herself and he watched her, his face passive, unreadable, as she reacted to the sensations the bulge in his jeans gave her. He squeezed her against him to increase the friction, his fingers slipping deep into her moist crotch.

Her lips parted, her breasts heaved, as she shivered with an orgasm, faked maybe. He didn't care.

"Good shit, yeah?" she'd asked when he closed his eyes, the heroin moving him, altering his mood and mind. Her fingers raked his longish hair, platinum strands shining in the dim light of the small room. Her mouth was warm against his neck. She moved to the other side, her tongue running along the line of his jaw. Her hand headed to his buttons. She disappeared out of his sight, kneeling in her Stilletos. He grabbed her hair hard at that, and she gasped a little. He made her look at him because no matter how fucked up he was, he had his limits.

Growled, "Just your hand."

"Always...," she said in a strained voice, her face pinched with pain, her hand on his. She didn't relax even when he released her a bit, her breaths fast. Like a rabbit. Like a scared rabbit. He liked her like that, wary, unsure about what he might do.

"I don't forget, baby," she assured him, a hand on his leg, the other freeing him.

His head hit the mirror when he felt her on him, an intense high hitting him at the same time. Her palm was slick with the juices of her luscious mouth. His boot kicked against the floor, slipping, forcing him to grab the sink to stay standing.

"Oooooh you like that...is it real good?"

"Yes," he had grunted softly, his hand still holding her hair tightly. "So...good."

He drifted in the red of the room, with bass beats sliding under the door, and the gut-wrenching noise of flesh against flesh. His conscience was dead, living _la vida de MK_. He turned his head and could see the edges of his reflection in the mirror...a monster there. Alive...and kicking.

_So...fucking...good._

**To be continued...**


	13. Chapter 13

**Caged**

**C****hapter 13**

Rule on tattoos: don't get them unless you can guarantee clean needles. Otherwise, you can get hep c, HIV, any disease transmitted by blood. Same goes for injecting drugs. Don't.

_Larry...what a name. So plain for a man so aged, so adept at artwork, so knowledgeable at reading people. Larry Nowak had been tattooing men in Statesville since 1973. He was a lifer, convicted of first degree murder without possibility of parole for killing his mother-in-law. A small thing with a butcher knife. The wife didn't stick around. Anyway, Larry did everyone's art, gang members, besotted lovers, spurned lovers, family men, loners, killers, thieves, the rapists. He didn't discriminate. He'd been doing good work for decades with homemade needles fashioned from whatever was on hand. Ink was always smuggled in by the customers. Basic black and blue._

_Since HIV came to life in the 80's and hepatitis C took a front row seat in the prison populations, however, the Pennsylvania prison system did one good thing in the new millenium: they gave him his own shop and plenty of supplies. Even got colored ink. He was permitted to train other tattoo artists in art and in keeping clean. Some real rehabilitation. Only thing he couldn't do was gang tats, but guards tended to turn a blind eye to that since gangs were subtly supported. The place had been studied and documented in a variety of journals and mags here and there. So far...a smashing success. Shit made Larry smile real big, all black holes from his missing ivories in a slash across a ragged face with a bald head. _

_Todd arrived a few days after his initiation into MK. Arrived on his own, with as much of a smile as he could muster at seeing an old friend of sorts in the pit of hell. It faded fast. The place was quiet in this late afternoon on a Tuesday, or a Thursday, or maybe it was Sunday. Just Larry and one African-American guy on a cot, getting his massive upper arm inked._

"_Well, well, well...the Grim Reaper returns," Larry said, glancing quickly at Todd before returning to his work on a Black Panther, animal and political statement. The guy growled for getting interrupted. To Larry, men didn't have names. They were known for their tattoos and Larry had a memory like an elephant. Never forgot his own artwork. "Thought it was you on the yard. Been waitin' for you."_

_Larry wiped down the completed animal on the con's brown skin and sent him on his way. The guy looked at Todd but not for long, disappearing down the hallway. A door opened, then slammed shut. Turning, the tat artist looked Todd up and down._

"_Lemme see it." Larry had a crooked grin, recalling one of his better pieces. He'd inked Todd on his first go-round in Statesville for raping Marty Saybrooke. Todd had been this kid, just a kid, really, minding his own business, trying to stay out of people's way, trying to get out alive and Larry had come to him. Sat by him one morning in the mess hall. "You be patient," he said, "...you're the fuckin' Grim Reaper. It may not feel like it now, son,...but you'll always win in the end. No matter what 'they' fuckin' do to you. You will ALWAYS...win in the end." So was born the Grim Reaper 'cause Death always wins. That's the truth._

_Todd stripped off his tee and turned, Larry whistling low..."Fuck. If that still doesn't speak to you. Love the black angel...she's a beauty. Fits right in with the Reaper. Tight. Who is she?"_

"_Nobody you need to know." The angel was Tea, wrapped in the cloak of the Grim Reaper that now spread across Todd's back. Funny how Larry had seemingly made space for it before the angel ever existed. As if he knew she'd be there eventually._

_Larry scooted close to Todd, sliding on the wheels of his seat. He looked at the other tats Todd had gotten over the years. He delicately picked up Todd's right hand in his, looking at Todd's forearms. See, no other man would ever do such a thing to a con, touch him without really asking. But Larry, being the tat guy, well, he was like a priest, or a doctor...he read men's bodies, read the color there. Read everything that lay on their skin._

_He ran his stained fingertips along the black tadpoles that Todd had gotten to cover up track marks and to signify that he was a work in progress...ran fingertips along the ugly scars that ran from his wrist to the crook of his arm. Looked at the other arm, finding the same thing, tadpoles and an even deeper scar there. He sighed and locked eyes with Todd, putting his hands on his knees, looking ready for work. "What do you want from me today, Reaper?"_

"_You tell me."_

_The old man smiled, showing off his signature lack of ivory. "I been hearing about you."_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Yup." Larry studied Todd up and down. "What's taken you so long to get to me? We got a lot of work to do."_

"_Been busy."_

_Larry continued to look at his customer who wasn't here with an image in mind. He didn't have to because Larry always saw the pictures on the men. True tattoos aren't invented or made up or copied, they're already there. Larry just needed to uncover them. _

"_You been weavin' a wide fuckin' web, ain't ya?" He chuckled. "Like a spider, my man. Weaving a web of steel...'cause you're never leaving this place. Even if you get out...you're always going to be in fuckin' prison. I see that. I SEE it."_

_Larry reached across the table and pulled out a sketch pad. Sketched out a black spider, angular, two forelegs working a web that happened to look like barbed wire. "The creature's going to be on your pec, where your heart is, the web stretching around your shoulder and your bicep."_

_Todd chuckled, then didn't. "I got one request," he said in a quiet voice, never needing to say much to Larry. "You gotta bury the letters M and K in it. Bury them."_

_Larry looked down at his hands, a bit of a sad look on his face. He knew what MK meant. "You always been on your own. The fuck happened, Reaper?"_

"_I can't do it anymore. I been in three years already, got denied parole...and I don't see the light. Shit's happened." In an even quieter voice, he said, "I want to get home. And not in a box."_

"_MK it is then." He looked up and saw something..."They're fuckin' snakes, you know. They act real quiet-like in the grass, but you step wrong, and...shit. And those motherfuckers got you by the neck, son. Them, and the poison you got in your veins. In your soul. I'm real sorry about what you been through, man. Yes, I am." He nodded his head, repeating, "I'm real sorry." So the coiled black snake, spitting venom, got on Todd's neck...another "MK" buried there, too._

_See, Larry wasn't no artist, he was a priest, a doctor, a fuckin' shaman. He just uncovered the tats that were already there. _

_Magic._

* * *

><p>Sunday came quickly and Todd stirred from a deep sleep, knowing it was late. Head buried under a pillow, lying on his belly, he glanced at the clock on the night table through slitted eyes, seeing that it read 3:00 in the afternoon. He looked for Tea and couldn't find her at first, but then rolled over onto his back and saw her working at the dresser. He sat up on his elbows, trying to make sense of what she was doing. Their walk-in closet was lit up, doors flung open. Drawers open, too. He stretched for the blurred glass of water on Tea's night table. Drank it down, trying to wash the previous night out of his mouth. It stuck to him. Like black deadly sap.<p>

"Tea?"

She turned to him, her lips pressed hard in anger, her eyes flashing judgment, and the little line in between her brows showing pain. God, he thought, she is beautiful in her oh-so-justifiable outrage.

"You didn't come home until six in the morning."

He said nothing, keeping his eyes on her. He'd sunk into old habits, deeply draining habits. He was lethargic now from the dope and had a headache, a kind of heroin hang-over. He'd detoured before over the past few years, fucking around with... um... _providers_... all without consequence, or even him considering it a relapse or betrayal because the acts had nothing to do with love or devotion or family or...anything other than impulsive self-destruction. Those times hadn't been often enough for blatant addiction, but often enough. They'd been fast, in and out. No different than putting a cigarette to his skin or smashing a fist into someone's face. Pow. Done. Gone like mist.

It had nothing to do with his Tea...

This time though the detour from love felt different, the wrongness more serious, the cut of it deeper. He felt disassociated. Detached. Like he was here, and yet, he wasn't. Something wasn't right... not like a seizure was coming... something else. Something worse because it was lasting.

She knew it, too.

"I want you out," she said, her voice ragged, weighted. "See, I thought I could work with you. Be on your SIDE. I thought we, you and I, could make our way through the darkness of your..._world_...I thought that with patience and _love _we could get through this. But when you put me in the car with Jed like I was your runaway teenager, and you THEN came home smelling of cheap perfume..." She paused, looking broken, "these things show me that YOU have separated from ME. You have..._separated. _This isn't just about MK or the things you did in Statesville...this is about NOW._"_

She pressed on the suitcase with her bare foot, pretty and delicate, bending to zip it up. Stood straight when she was done. She was dressed in jeans, her soft sweater hugging her still-narrow waist, her hair falling about her face, wild with her efforts to throw him out.

"I wanted to protect Lucia from thinking that you're going back to the war," she said, "...but then, well, you're killing me again, suffocating me...and my children cannot have an absent mother, dead beneath the weight of your fucked-up-ness." Tea moved around the room, shutting drawers, closing the closet doors. "Lucia lived without you in her daily life before, she'll live that way again. Reese is definitely too young to notice any change."

He said nothing, scooting back so he was leaning against the headboard. Glanced at his naked body covered by sheets. He hadn't showered before lying down next to his wife...just stripped and collapsed. See, see...the problem was he blended the old impulsive habits with home. Unlike previous times, he hadn't washed the truth off his body, hadn't cleansed himself of the mud he'd rolled in, so therefore he brought it into his house...like a mangy flee-ridden dog bringing dead rotten birds to the feet of his master.

Tea scurried around the room, grabbing one thing or the other. She stewed. Sighed furiously. Disappeared into the closet again, dragged out another bag. She stopped and looked at him.

"Do you deny you were with someone?"

Her voice lilted, cracked a little. Her eyes glistened in the light, shininess that he could see all the way from the bed. He reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled out a cigarette. A lighter. Lit the bitch up. Breathed in the smoke, feeling the burn in his lungs and liking it. Liking the honesty of the moment. Yes, he fucked up. He WAS fucked up. And it was a beautiful thing...because there is immeasurable beauty in corruption and decay because it is the TRUTH. No cover-ups, no lies, no pretenses.

Lies made him tired. He'd been lying for years to the love of his life, to the center of his world, and it had been killing him slowly. But he had to do that...he was protecting her. Even last night, pushing her away...he was still protecting her. From himself, MK, from Statesville.

He sighed right along with her, studying the vaulted ceiling, the tall windows full of wintry light, looking at her painted red toenails. He wanted to crawl to her, wanted to kiss her feet, those individual toes, her smooth-skinned legs, the inside of her thighs...suckle at the core of her. See, see...he'd ripped out his soul for her to witness, he'd brought home the whore's perfume and the heroin high to show her...to show his true self. It's what she wanted, right? Full disclosure, right? And...god...god help him, she wasn't the only person to be angered at his reality.

Pedro couldn't talk to him because the longer they sat at that table in the club, the deeper into the high Todd slid. Snorting tended to do that. See, unlike shooting up which was fast and furious and could kill a man as he very well knew, when heroin was snorted, the wave rolled in slower, but once it did, it pulled you far out, leaving you treading water, head just above drowning, lasting a long while. It was why it worked so well in Statesville. Sure, addiction was still possible as he very well knew, but...so far, so good. It was why he still depended on it for those momentary dips into hell. Pedro finally called a cab...sent Todd home with his own message from MK.

_You're weak...and I cannot abide weakness in my men. Go home, get sober, and do not come back to me until you are. Until then...you're going to have to endure the LPD stalking you. We will not protect you from this - I will sacrifice you, for the sanctity of MY family._

But then Pedro pulled Todd into his arms, kissing his head, saying in Spanish, "_My son, my bastard son, do not think I am forsaking you. I am doing what I must. Regain your strength and all will be right._"

When Todd had come home, he sat outside on the porch for a long while, unmoved by the cold, just drifting in his high. He kept asking himself, why, why couldn't he shake the habits; he'd tried so many times to free himself of them. Tim Graham had urged him to get into treatment, but he didn't want to. Said he knew how to do it. So, over and over, he'd walk away, but then something would happen and there he'd go, jumping down the rabbit hole again.

Pedro was right, the dope made him weak. Yet still...he couldn't quit.

And why he needed Leticia, or whichever MK whore was around, was another question...he knew there was something of Brandy there, that because of her, because of some other forgettable incidents...heroin and sex had become inextricably connected. He couldn't just snort a little dope. He wanted more, the boost to the boost. Even in Statesville ... he still wanted more ... just wasn't willing to actualize that. _Mostly._ Coldness ran up his spine...a lurking explanation from Tim from a while ago that he'd promptly forgotten...

_Todd, what did the sexual abuse consist of? How did your father...touch you?_

_His hand. Mostly._

A sudden wave of sickness hit him, derailing the thought process, the self-analysis, and he could feel blood draining and his skin get clammy. He breathed through his nose so the feeling could pass. When it did, he took a couple of puffs and watched the smoke drift upwards, disappearing into the air. He wiped the sweat off the back of his neck. Tea stormed over to him and tried to take it. He growled at her and she backed off, her finger pointing at him. "The kids will smell that...I hate that. You're doing it on purpose." A flash of hurt crossed her face. Her hands on her hips, exactly the way Lucia did it.

The TRUTH is...since he'd gotten to Statesville he had lost certain _morals_, certain … _feelings ..._ about shit he did. He felt little remorse for his detours, little of anything at all other than mind-numbing relief. When the heroin hit his blood, he melted, and everything in his life...faded into the background...like white into white. Even the sexual component was part of the white, part of the mind melt. So when the reality of the night hit him in that alley as he spoke to Tea, when he realized how close a Serrano killer came to her in that club, when he felt her lightness as he carried her to the car, her fragility...well...he just jumped right in. Picked those poison flowers...like it was fuckin' springtime. White melting into white...

He knew what Tim would say... "Kiddo, talk to me. We have to get back to dealing with YOU. The fact that your therapy was cut off by Statesville is a problem, the fact that Statesville has become a problem...needs to be worked out."

_No, no, no. _

He watched Tea stare at him, the hate inside of her dark and ancient. It made him love her more. A fellow monster...an equal. He knew much about her that she did not realize. Well...maybe he should pull out her own darkness, drag HER soul out for all to see. Slit her truths out of her heart and make her fuckin' eat them. He put the cigarette out on his wrist without thinking, his eyes closing in instinctual momentary bliss, his mouth quirking at the pain, and Tea gasped...

"You have some fucking nerve, Delgado." He opened the drawer to his nightstand and dropped the dead cigarette inside.

"What?" She was still distracted by the cigarette...her face told him that she was very worried now about him. He hadn't really meant for her to see that. Although, due to it, a bigger picture was coming to light in her pretty head. Kind of. He thought. He got out of bed, grabbed his jeans and yanked them on. He stood tall, the spider, the snake, the markings all black as hell.

Stepping towards Tea, he said in that silky voice, "You want to hate me for my... wrongness … do I get to hate you for _yours_?"

He could physically feel her eyes on him, like...like oil, like...like gasoline. She blinked a few times, trying to gauge what was happening. He just needed a light and all hell was going come raining down in this room. THIS she did not know. He could tell that while she was beginning to see the crazy...she did not understand just how far out the crazy went. This was the cut, this was the deeper level to which he'd sunk.

"What wrongness?" she asked. "My refusal to stay under a rock? My insistence on knowing exactly what and WHO you are? That?"

"No, no, baby girl, because all that is so RIGHT. You needed to know everything." He bent a little, whipping his hand almost like a preacher. Tea saw that their door was closed, worrying about the kids. "You needed all the playing cards laid out on the proverbial table," he continued, "So yeah, you're right...I need to go, I get it..."

"I think...we need to call Tim..."

He laughed darkly, "Tim? What's he going to do? No, no...you know what...enough about me...let's talk about YOU. Let's look at YOU in honesty's light...in that glorious fucking light of TRUTH..."

"What the hell are you talking about? Todd...you're scaring me."

Pausing...licking his lips, pulling his hair back. He glared at her, making Tea instinctively take a step back. He walked closer to her, pushing her back...back...until she was up against the wall.

"I am talking about you, YOU, Delgado, YOUR secrets, YOUR...wrongs...when I was gone."

Tea stilled, her face calm...evaluating him, evaluating whether he was bluffing. He was mere inches from her, his eyes roving her face, looking down at her body. She could feel the tension in him. She heard something in his words, though, a sound, a tone all too familiar. She locked eyes with him and saw a definite disconnect. The colorful word choices...the poetics in his language...Tea remembered this from his time on Sixteenth Street. He'd gone off the deep end. Shit. She swallowed. Did he really know her secrets? Funny how last night suddenly disappeared from her agenda. No, all that seemed to matter now...was that HER beloved had stepped off a rocky ledge of sanity.

"What I did or did not do when you were gone," she said, "doesn't matter. All that counts is NOW-"

"Yeah? Is that how it all works? So...so...because you were not WITH me in prison...heroin did not matter, MK did not matter, all the shit I did, did not matter. And because you were not at my side last night, ALL that I did last night...DOES NOT MATTER. Is that how...it...works?" He gritted his teeth, his hair hanging loose in his face, strands blowing out with his breath. "IS IT?! Is that how it fuckin' WORKS?!"

"Todd...stop..." She put her hand on his chest and he looked at her hand, where she touched him. Oh yeah...she was looking at his precious _madness_ up close and personal, directed at HER. The madness she found in Brandy's apartment, the madness he showed at the hospital...he'd given into it. Bo had cut him apart and he could not bear it, could not take it, so he'd given up on his family, on her...

This wasn't about her secrets, this was him...giving up. He'd given up. He was going to abandon her again. Yes, yes...he was going to abandon her. Make her hate him so he'd be free...to die, maybe. All to protect them.

She looked at the bags, at him...no, no, this was what he wanted. She flipped back to him, to his crazy. And she HATED him for it. How DARE he give up like this. How DARE he give up. She'd never given up...and yet here he was...the tough getting going, and he was running away. She lit up with her own hate and fury and disgust...

"No, no, no, YOU ARE NOT DOING THIS TO ME AGAIN! You bastard! You BASTARD! I don't care what you do! You will never get me to GIVE UP on YOU or US! I will NOT give up on you! YOU BASTARD!"

She began hitting him with her fists, anywhere, everywhere, and he ducked, dodged, put his hands up, letting her release her righteous fury. Loving it, needing it...but then he tired of it and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her like she was nothing, dragged her kicking and fighting across the floor until they hit the bed. There he threw her down and pinned her beneath him. Pinned her against the cool sheets with his body, and she could only look up at him, out of breath now, only free to look into his soulless eyes.

"Don't do this to me, Todd...we've worked so hard...don't fall apart now...please...please...I need you to not do this..."

She tried to move...and she couldn't. He hadn't heard a thing she said. That strength of his hadn't lessened in the years since Statesville. She'd seen it last night, she felt it now. He usually didn't show it to her, even in their most passionate moments. But now...he showed her.

"Secrets, Tea...we all have them."

He watched her struggle with a lazy expression on his face; she was a mouse...and he was a demon, a monster. She was so small, so...breakable. Trembling like a leaf in a storm. "Todd...please...you're feeling hopeless...but it's not, it isn't. I'm not upset with what I've learned, I'm not shocked, I'm not even afraid of what we're facing. Together-"

"SHUT UP! Shut up...shut up...did you think I wouldn't find out?" he asked. His voice turned syrupy, serious. There wasn't much emotion other than the kind he used to evoke fear. "Come on, Tea, confess it. Confess it..."

She shook her head, tears leaking out now, "What are you talking about, for god's sake?"

He whispered thickly into her ear, "R.J. Gannon."

She slammed her eyes to his, then dragged them away, "Oh no...no..."

"Did you really think I wouldn't know that you let him inside our house, Tea...that you let him...fuck you? Over and over again? And here you are, throwing ME out? You brought him to THIS BED! What the FUCK did you THINK?!"

She cried a little harder, the tears just coming on their own volition. It was mostly true - he wasn't wrong, but he didn't know everything. There was so much more, there was so much less. She had no idea how he would know such things - she and R.J. had been discreet. But then...that was his business. Information. She swallowed, old pain crawling inside of her like spiders...snakes...

Freeing one hand, he slammed it against the mattress next to her head. "Well, THINK AGAIN! I live with these pictures in my head, I breathe them, EVERY FUCKING DAY!"

Tea reached up to him, putting her hands on his face, "Todd...come on, baby, come on...I'm not the enemy."

He slapped her hands away, grabbing them and pinning them again above her head.

"Do you know what that did to me when I was locked up... stuck behind bars, knowing … knowing ... that he had his cock inside of you, and there wasn't anything I could do about it? Nothing I could do to help you, protect you, soothe all that pain you felt?"

Tea turned away. She could not look at him, she could not look at that bottomless pit of pain in HIS eyes that she knew was there, the crazy that was too awful for her to take.

"I don't do that now, Todd," she said, her voice cracking. "I don't turn to someone else now that you're here. Unlike you. You reached out to another woman to sooth you while...while I am HERE."

"You lie to me."

"I never lie to you! Oh my god..."

"You don't turn to me...you keep it all to yourself, the hurts, the loneliness...you bury yourself in your work, the kids. You are silent with your pain. You sit across from me, lookin' at me...punishing me with your quiet and you know it. I feel it when you make love...you go away...you don't let me in. I've been waiting and waiting...and still, you don't let ME in."

Tea began to cry harder, still turned away from him. He bent and licked the tears as they rolled down her cheeks. Sighed, "Beautiful...beautiful you..."

"Please let go of me...", she begged of him.

Shaking uncontrollably beneath him, she glanced at him and he smiled sadly back at her, "You scared, Tea? Whatcha think I'm gonna do? Huh?"

He was someone else, now. She'd seen him once since he'd come home. A playful romp, turned not so playful. She saw him in Bo's interrogation room, last night on the dance floor...and in that fourth year shot. A monster.

"I don't know you anymore," she said. "God...god..." She felt his hardness against her thigh and it made her shake more, cry a little more. He was hating her, showing her his power over her. He was going to make her pay for her betrayal, for loving him, for throwing him out, for daring to NOT give up on him.

"I haven't changed. I'm still...me. The same bastard you met all those years ago. The same bastard that my father created."

"No, you're not."

"What did he do to you? Huh? Did he kiss you? Did he bite your nipples? Huh? Huh?"

"God, stop!"

When he started to yank down her jeans, she screamed shortly because this was something he would not be able to live with...and things were bad enough, "TODD! Please!" He slammed a hand on her mouth to shut her up...and she fought him harder...his fingers scraping her skin as he got the denim down. Her hands were free and she beat on him to quit, desperate...in full panic mode now...

"You wanted to get fucked, well, that's what I'm gonna do...show you a real fuckin' monster..." He grabbed her flying wrists and slammed them down with one hand. He reached down and unbuttoned his jeans with the other hand, jerking them down before climbing on top of her...spreading her knees, her ankles still caught in her own denim...she squirmed beneath him, again, unable to move.

"Please...Todd...," she huffed, fighting him, fighting. His knee dug into her thigh and she screamed. He groaned wordlessly, working himself between her thighs. Tea wanted to scream bloody murder, she wanted to bite him until HE screamed, but the kids...the kids...

...and that's when she just stopped fighting because pure defense...looks something like consent. Relaxed her muscles, breathed...he wasn't trying to rape her, he wasn't. He was hurt, crazy, mad with confusion and fear, and he wanted her to know it. He wanted her to know just how fucked up he was...again, more reason for him to leave, more reason for her to let him. More reason to justify his disappearance.

"You can't rape me," she said, her voice soft and gentle as water, "if I just let you love me. So it's okay, Todd, it's okay. Go ahead. I'm not fighting you. I love you."

He slowed his effort at that, reacting strongly to Tea's sudden voice of reason and calm. He groaned in response to her. His head lay alongside hers and she could hear his hard breaths. He dug his hips into her, hard, without entering her, and she grunted at the pain of it. Then she whispered to him, "It's okay...I know you're hurt...I'm hurt, too."

He relaxed his body somewhat. His grip on her hands then loosened and she moved them to his head, hot with anger, the back of his neck...she caressed his hair, his tight shoulders. He was wet with sweat and shaking, and Tea thought of the pit bull terriers, that black one that could never be fixed. And if that was the case, well...the way Ty couldn't kill that black beast, she couldn't kill hers either. She'd simply have to make accommodations, the food being shoved through a hole in the gate, the cage...locked.

Loving him only when he was drugged so he couldn't hurt her. Loving him from far away.

"It's okay," she said, tears still rolling down the side of her face. She looked for his eyes, but he'd dropped his head, his hair covering his face. "I'm sorry about R.J. I am so...so sorry." She moved the strands of hair, "Look at me, come on...look at me."

He shook his head. She could see his face now, and the pain was there. Endless pain that she understood. She kissed his cheek, his mouth. He turned away from her, still lying between her legs, still ready...but not making any efforts to get inside of her.

"You need to do this? Then do it. It's okay."

"No...because I will hurt you. I want it to fucking hurt!" He hit the bed again with his hand and Tea jerked at that.

"I know," she said, caressing him again, moving his hair so she could look at him. "I'm sorry...I wasn't with him to hurt you. I had my reasons."

She didn't have to explain - he knew why. Statesville was why. He relaxed finally, the anger having subsided, the crazy rolling away. He looked at her as they separated, and then he didn't. He adjusted his clothes. He didn't look her in the eyes as he did that. She fixed her own clothes.

"Okay...okay," she said, "...we're okay..."

"No," he said. "We're not."

"Todd..."

"Why did you let him...come here," he asked in a soft, tired voice, "That's what I want to know."

"I just wanted to feel something," she explained as she smoothed his hair, his face, moving onto the ink on his body. "I just wanted to feel a human body against mine, to feel something that felt like love. A mimic of you. That's all it was. You understand that, don't you?"

He moved his hand across her chest to her head, holding it. He buried his other arm beneath her body. And he slumped against her. Those images he carried since he found out about R.J. all that while ago banged inside of his head. He tried to shake them and couldn't. He was having a hard time putting the knowledge back into its appropriate place.

"Why did you wait to tell me," she asked.

"Because that's what I do...I learn something and keep it...for when I need it." They were quiet a moment. "Do you think of him...when we're together? You and me?"

"God, no." She sighed, needing to turn the conversation to its original place. Turn the morning to the place they started. "Tell me about the perfume."

He pulled her tighter into him and Tea felt that strength of his again. She whispered, "Tell me."

In a quiet voice after some long moments of silence, he said, "I get something from the waitress that you can't give me."

Oh it hurt that he confirmed he'd been with another woman. Tea held the hurt in, waiting … waiting ... "What?"

"Heroin," he sighed. "You will never give me heroin."

Tea was quiet...stunned. Confused. "Wait...you told me you didn't use. You said it...just the other day..."

"I lied. That's what we do...that's what addicts do...we lie."

"Todd...again? I thought-"

"I never stopped, Tea. I can't stop. I need it. I haven't really stopped all these three years since Statesville."

"Oh god. God DAMN it." Tea pushed at him, and he moved off her. Lay on his back and covered his face with his hands like a child, as if he could hide within his own created darkness. He wanted to call it shame, guilt. But the fact was...he just didn't want her to see the need in his eyes, the desire to get high again. His addiction had exploded in the last few days.

"Where," Tea asked, "where are you injecting it?" She grabbed his arm, pulling it down, checking for fresh marks, but instead she found the cigarette burns, plural. "Oh god..."

"I'm sorry..."

She checked the other side, finding the same thing...and she kept in a sudden sob. She breathed to stop it in its tracks, and looked in between his fingers. He let her search his body, watching her. Moving to his feet, she checked in between his toes. She ran her hands up his calves, shoving the pant legs up, looking for marks. She went to his hips, pulling his jeans down, looking there, too, then his chest and he looked at her when she finally ended up at his throat. Her hands around his neck. She was straddling him.

"Where are you shooting up?"

"Tea...I don't do that. It's powder...like cocaine."

"You sniff it."

"Yes, but it's called snorting..."

"You have to quit. You have to call Tim, oh Todd...why weren't you telling me that you were in such pain?!"

"I didn't want to worry you?" He reached to her, and wiped the tears off her face. Smiled a bit sadly at her. "I'm sorry..."

She held his face in between her hands, "You're addicted. You're an active addict. God... GOD ... how could I not have seen this?"

He looked away, "I didn't want you to see it."

"You have to quit because I love you. I love you. I love you. Do you understand? Do you?"

Todd whimpered at that, choked out, "I love YOU." His hands were in her hair now and he kissed her lips. "I'm sorry - I wish things were different."

Tea pulled away. Sitting up. He looked at her, warily. Something suddenly came to her. She looked a little...ill. She asked, "If you haven't stopped the heroin all these three years...have you been with this waitress...all these three years? Have you been..._fucking_ her...all these three years? Just like Brandy?"

He dragged his gaze away from her...looked out the windows. He didn't want to talk about it. Shook his head, "Not really."

"What does that mean?"

"What do you mean by 'fucking'?"

The words hung in the air, heavy, dark. Filled with history. Brandy would never leave them. That was it. "Have you been having sex with the waitress for all these three years?

He looked at her and shook his head, "It's not like that...is it? They give me heroin. I get high. I can't talk about this..." He shoved off the bed, now. He scratched his head and chewed on his lip. He buried his hands in his pockets. He dropped his head. "I wanted you to know...a long time ago. But I couldn't. You...were far away from me. You've been far away from me. I needed it that way...to protect you."

Tea closed her eyes, and sighed, "Did you say, THEY give you heroin? THEY? There's more than ONE?" She laughed oh-so-sadly, "Oh...oh...my god." Jed tried to tell her, George tried to tell her. They kept saying, are you sure you want to know WHO Todd is? But she couldn't hear it...wouldn't hear it. Did they all KNOW?

No matter her fears, his desire to run off and die like an old...cat, he needed to leave. He needed to get help and he couldn't be here to get it. She could hardly look at him. Her heart cracked...and tears filled her dark eyes. She tried to feel empathy, love...it was very hard.

He reached for her, that pain all over him, that goddamn pain that pulled her to him, kept her chained to him, "Tea," he said in desperate voice, "...I'm sorry...you don't understand..."

With the deepest of sadness, she said, "You've broken me. I haven't just been under a rock...I've been in a coma, dead...you're right. I had no idea. I had NO IDEA! Between your involvement in MK...and this...you've...completely...broken me. Totally, completely."

The door clicked open and the two looked at the entrance to their room. Tea then got up, sniffling. Said, "Hi, _amor_, is everything okay?"

Lucia's voice was soft, like an angel's. "I heard you and Papi screaming."

"We were just talking loudly...I'm coming to you. We'll let Papi get ready. He has to leave..."

"Where is he going?"

"Not far..." She pushed Lucia out the door, "Wait a second, _mija._"

Shutting the door partway, she turned to him. "I love you more than my own life, Todd Manning. But you do need to go. You may not be ready to stop using...but we are ready for you to stop. We need you to stop. And you can't be here so long as you're...not stopping. I cannot see how we can resolve this problem with Bo..." She paused, searching for the words. "We cannot be a united front if one of us is off fighting another war, all alone."

"United?"

"For a criminal court, for a judge..., as for everything else, I can't think right now. You've … finally … done it. Consider me pushed away."

"Mami, why are you crying?"

Their voices faded and the door shut quietly.

Todd's head swam and he jerked open the drawer, pulling out a cigarette. He tried to light it but had an impossible time because he was shaking again. He'd put it all out for her. He showed her just what a monster he was since Statesville and she...couldn't quite take it. There wasn't much she didn't know. He laughed a little hysterically...oh there was more. There was a lot more. He finally threw the things across the room and collapsed down on the bed, his hands in fists at his head, a scream caught in his throat.

What had he done?

He then made his way to the bathroom. Didn't dare look at himself in the mirror because he knew who he'd find. He touched the glass and stood there...looking once again down at himself. He had known all about Tea and R.J. He had known because he'd sent people out to learn that she was safe, to assure it, George in particular, and when George had come back to him, the guilt was all over his face, and finally the guy just blurted it, vomited the truth onto the table in the private attorney consult room.

_I'm so sorry, man, I'm so sorry. Gannon sees her, they're together, Manning. Maybe once a month he stays over. Jesus, I didn't want to tell you. _

Todd jumped him, went fucking mad dog on poor George, until the guards came and finally had to use a Taser on him. George forgave him despite the hospital visit he'd required. He'd explained what happened and Todd was saved a serious charge on his record.

But he actually understood. GOD, he understood more than she could ever know. And R.J., well...the guy had Jedediah in his employ. R.J. treated Jed right and went way out of his way to keep the kid safe and protected, and Tea, too...and...Todd was forever in his debt for helping Jed live his dreams, be the man he wanted to BE. And for loving Tea when she needed to be loved, loving her well, and never hurting her. For doing what Todd refused to do. Yeah, yeah, he felt differently about Patrick and Blair...but those were different times. Tea had stood with him through Brandy...and the drugs...and then Statesville. And the fuck did Blair ever do for him? Not like Tea, never like Tea.

Not that the thought of her and R.J. didn't fuck with his head, didn't tear him to pieces. But really...in comparison to the shit he'd been slinging for so long, his beloved getting a little love was hardly anything. Small...goddamn...potatoes. Right? No...he was the king of the double standard.

R.J. and him ended up with a gentleman's agreement on the Tea point. Neither would ever refer to the thing...and R.J. would stay the hell away from Tea.

He walked back into the bedroom and dug into one of his dresser drawers. Unstuck a taped treasure that he got off of Leticia a while ago. He'd hidden it away for moments such as this. A little white package of dope. Broke it open, dumped it on the mahogany wood. He studied it for a while, tasted it. He walked around, looking at his bags. Then he said, fuck it, bent over at the dresser and sniffed that shit up. Wiped away the evidence, the bag buried in the trash. Cussed himself to the core of his being.

_Sonofabitch._

He ran the shower, stripped, and stepped into the heat. Washed the dirt off his body, knowing the dirt ran thick in his blood. No washing that away. He turned the steam on, kicking off the hard rain. Dropped down in the pooled water and crunched up his body to hold himself together.

He was so sorry...about everything. He had never wanted Tea or his family to see any of the mud. God, god...he was a mess. He had thought it was all going so...well. The high hit him slow and low and he grabbed the tiles with his fingertips, his head smacking against the marble. He moaned softly as the water pelted him. His muscles pulled deliciously, like a stretch in the morning, like making love after a long absence. Yeah, he'd quit, he had to, but at the moment...he was free.

Thank god...for small mercies.

The pain left and he grinned at the sweet bliss. The steam was delicious against his body and he touched his cock, shivering at the twin highs. He laughed a little and then didn't. He stroked some more and when he came, he jerked against the marble and then settled. He drifted a while, watching bits of semen dissipating into the water.

In the midst of the bliss, the door to the bathroom opened slowly. Through the mist, Todd could see a small person. Lucia. She delicately opened the shower door and Todd looked at her through half-closed eyes. He looked around, lifting a knee...shit. He grabbed a washcloth and threw it over his crotch. He had never been comfortable with the kids seeing him this...bare, much less so fucked up. All his scars were evident, all the color. They were going to one day ask questions. But there was more...he was afraid that such closeness, nakedness, could hurt them. The way he'd been hurt. He hid away in his head at that. He wanted to just drift away but her voice pulled him back.

"Papi, are you going to back to the war?"

Her words cut right through him. "No, _preciosa_, I'm just...doing something...taking care of...a trip...the paper..." He paused, trying hard to explain. Coming up empty, because what she said was more the truth than anything he could fabricate. "Yes, Lucia...I'm going back to a war but I won't be gone long. I promise."

Lucia stepped into their great shower, her little jeans and t-shirt soaking fast. She sat next to him and Todd just sat there, looking at her. Afraid to touch her, afraid...afraid to be loved too much by her because maybe, maybe he wouldn't come home. Her hands reached around his neck and she pulled on him with more strength than her little body appeared to have on the outside.

She said softly, right into his ear, "I don't want you to die like all those other soldiers."

Todd broke at that. No amount of drugs could keep the hurt at bay. He couldn't answer, no voice would come. Tears more than welled, they rolled out from the depth of his soul and bled down his cheeks. He hugged her fully, pulling her onto his lap, rocking her like a baby, the way he'd missed doing when she really was one.

"I love you, Lucia. I'm not going to die. No way. I'm coming right back to you and Reese, and your Mami."

"I love you," she said, looking up at him with a sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes. He pressed her to his chest and held her that way for as long as her little self could stand.

Tea came after her. Calling her name, stopping at the bathroom door. When she saw them on the shower floor, seeing Todd rocking his daughter, when she saw he was crying, letting go in a way he'd not let go since he returned from prison, she softened her resolve, her hate eased. She stepped inside and reached for Lucia, gently pulling her from him. He could not look at Tea, merely lifting his knees and holding his head in his hands.

Lucia held Tea tightly, "Mami, don't let the war makers take Papi! Please! You can sue them!"

"There are things in this world that we cannot change, that we have no power over, _mijita._ It's going to be okay. We love you."

The two disappeared into the light, leaving him very much alone. Lucia's upset still reverberated in the bathroom, echoing in his head, his body. The drug pulled him down, numbing him to the plea of his baby girl.

But not enough. If Todd didn't fix this, he'd lose MK's protection and he'd end up in prison. But worst of all...he'd forever lose his family. And they'd lose him. And he could see for the first time maybe...he could really FEEL for the first time, that them losing him to the wilds of the world would matter. Greatly.

He stood shaky on his feet, stumbling out into the room. He grabbed his cell phone off the night table and dialed Tim Graham's number. When Superman answered, Todd could hardly speak.

"You're calling me, kiddo. I'm right here. Don't hang up."

It had been so long since they'd heard each other's voices. At least a year. It felt good, to both of them. It felt...hopeful.

"I need help," he finally choked out.

"Okay...I'll come get you..."

_Thank god for small mercies._

**To be continued...**


	14. Chapter 14

**Caged** **Chapter 14**

The house was dead quiet and Todd counted the fingers on his hands and the toes on his bare feet as he waited for Tim Graham to come get him. Like he'd asked, like he'd begged. Ten toes, ten fingers. Five toe nails had polish on them...a pretty pink care of Lucia. He wore nothing but his soft blue jeans with the truly developed holes in the knees. The fluffy chair he sat in occupied a corner of the room where all the books were at and he took in the surrounding mess. The wrecked bed, the closet doors flung open, drawers still spilling over with clothes. There was a total of two packed suitcases and an open-mouthed duffel. He chuckled at Tea's thoroughness. He'd only take the duffel.

The duffel needed filling 'cause it was empty, pockets empty, soulless... he'd have to move shit out of the suitcases and put them in the black duffel. He'd need socks. And pants. And boxer-briefs...and his iPad. And a toothbrush. Keys. He needed keys to the house, to his office, to his cars, to Tea's heart. Hahahaha...he was hungry. Grilled cheese sounded good. The open duffel collapsed its mouth and the zipper looked like teeth...and...and...

Scratched his chest thoughtlessly, scratched until there was blood. He dropped his head and ran to the Princess, nodding out...

Damn wonderful. Almost like the old days. Almost _breathtaking._

After Tea had pulled Lucia from the bathroom, he'd eventually gotten out, too. Dressed in those jeans. Heard Tea gathering the kids, the front door slamming shut, and then the BMW's engine as it idled in the driveway. He walked to the window to watch them. Tea had gotten out to adjust Reese's car seat. She was upset and struggled to get the seat right. She stood up and put her face in one hand, the other hand on her hip. She dug back in and fixed it. Finally got in the driver's seat. He watched them trail down the driveway and off into the city. She hadn't wanted the kids to say goodbye or see Tim come pick him up. He didn't actually talk to her about it...he simply knew it. She never even looked up at the window - that's how determined she was to get out.

He felt nothing watching them drive away - the heroin helped with that.

Now, he thought he'd been careful. Just did that one bit. His body was pretty used to that amount every month or so...except, in the middle of his pleasurable nod, while fully embracing the numbness to all things Manning, he woke up to a head rush so intense that he got hard. Grabbed his cock...and then pow...threw up violently on the marble tiles. Crawled to the toilet until he was done. Exactly as if he'd injected the heroin. In fact, he was so pulled under there was no need for the extra boost...the high was like coming on speed, an orgasm fired up with nitro that spread throughout his body, and exploded in his brain. He was so blasted that he couldn't even fucking SEE.

He blindly made his way back to the chair...thinking bags, and toes...and fingers...and most importantly, most brilliantly...that he no longer needed to breathe. It was so natural, so easy to just lie there, still as...well, still as death. Utterly, totally...breathtaking. Just like the old days. Yes, yes, yes, yes...

God, he loved it more than anything. Then, the world went very, very black.

Light came into his head when his cheek got smacked and he opened his eyes to Tim's doctor-like expression. But he couldn't hear what his favorite person in the whole wide world was saying. The guy held Todd's face between warm hands and talked a little louder. The voice was muffled and he couldn't keep focus on his kind blue eyes. Kept going back under, like he was in an ocean. Waves kept pulling him beneath.

"That wasn't enough, Tim!"

"Give it some moments to work. Todd...I gotta move you...you gotta help me. MANNING! Come on, stay with me..."

He felt himself hit the hard-wood floor. First the chair...then the floor...and then the black. The delicious...black.

The slaps on his face were hard and Todd fought those hands, or at least he thought he did. Black came again. Black kept coming. Then voices...there was definitely more than one. He kept hearing them, then not...in and out, in and out.

"...you gotta breathe, kiddo...keep breath-""

"-ere you go...God damn it...stay with-"

"Doc...do something...Jesus..."

"I see you...look at me. That's right..."

"She'll die...she'll die without him. Shit! He's not breath-"

"Don't panic yet...gonna give him another dose. Say goodbye to heaven, kiddo...gonna wake you up now...sorry about this..."

There was no way he was moving OR waking up. The one voice faded and Todd went back into the black, swimming long strokes into the cool depths of deadness. He remembered this, remembered shooting up back with Brandy and getting to this incredible place, a place he never could reach snorting the powder. Jesus, it felt good, so good...so relieving. And in this place, life was perfect. Nothing hurt. There were no murders, no whores, no cuts, burns, scars, no kids getting abused, no wives getting wounded, no children of lost parents getting lost themselves, and in this place...there was no goddamn heroin. Life...was perfect. Brilliant.

He didn't want to give it up...so he dug in hard...

"Shit...it's not working."

"Just a few more seconds...his heart rate's up, breathing's up...come on, kiddo, you gotta come home...come on back."

And damn, it worked...he was shocked awake, WIDE awake. He jerked to a sitting position, gasping for air, wide-eyed, confused as all get out. Immediately, he vomited right there on the hard-wood floor, right in between his legs. He heard someone say, "Whoops..."

Another voice groaned, "Thank god...thank..._fucking_...god..."

Followed up with..."Get me something to clean him up. Aww...kiddo...Christ..."

Todd spit more bile out of his mouth...wiped the strings of saliva away...he was positively wet with sweat, tears forced out of his eyes, snot-nosed. A harsh ride to consciousness. He looked around, looking a bit frightened, confused. But then he remembered...

"I'm sorry," Todd whimpered to Tim who reached for one of the wet towels from Jed's hand. The high was completely gone. "You gave me Narcan...why? It hurts so much."

"I know it does," Tim said, dropping the towel on the mess on the floor.

"You overdosed," Jedediah said softly, standing tall next to his father. Tim was wiping the floor, then folding the dirty towel. Wiped one of Todd's hands that had gotten in the way. Wiped down the strands of hair that got caught in the fluid. Tenderly cleaned his face. So patiently he worked. Tim stood and walked into the bathroom. Bent to clean up the mess there, too. From the bathroom he turned a moment, looked at Todd. Jed could see the doctor take a breath of relief. For all the calm the doctor exhibited, he still had gotten scared. This had been damn close.

"Scared the shit out of me," Jed said, catching the brown-red stain on Todd's arm. Took Todd's arm in his hand and cleaned the dried blood up. Sighed as he did it, damned sorrowful that Todd had gotten into mainlining again. Wiped the hands once more. Todd was like a puppy, not objecting, not fighting, jittery. Jedediah had never seen him quite like this. It saddened him...behind the lingering terror.

"You okay, Pops? The hell is goin' on?"

"I couldn't have od'd...I don't use that much..." He shook his head, complete disbelief on his face. But then...maybe...it was because he wasn't used to using twice in two days...maybe. He'd watched Jed wipe the blood away but it wasn't registering. He thought he hurt himself somewhere. Maybe when he'd puked in the bathroom. He looked there, into the distance. Trying to put shit together. That's as far as the thought went. He looked back at Jed, said quietly, "I'm sorry, Jed. I'm so sorry."

"Just glad this didn't end...another way."

Tim returned with a fresh wet washcloth and Todd took it, holding it to his face a second before pulling back and spitting more into it. The two then helped him to his feet. "Had we been a little later," the doctor said, taking the washcloth out of Todd's hand, "this would have definitely ended another way. We gotta go. Come on."

Todd shook his head, "No, I can't go anywhere..."

Tim looked seriously at his patient, his usual calm finally cracked. "Are you kidding me? You have GOT to quit, Manning! Jesus CHRIST!" With that, shockingly, Tim took that washcloth and threw it across the room. "I was going to have to tell your wife that you DIED today! You feeling this? Your kids nearly LOST YOU!"

Even Jed was surprised at Doctor Graham, the king of serenity.

"Where are you taking me?" Todd put his hand out, reaching for Tim's shirt, grabbing the cloth in a desperate fist. He eyed his doctor, fearful. He was shaking, terrified. "Please, please don't put me in Granite...I don't want residential. I can't...I can't leave them. Tim? Please?"

Tim looked at Jedediah who only looked sad. Jed held Todd's arm gently, "Dad...you nearly died. You understand? I came in and your lips and fingernails were blue...you weren't breathing. You were dying. Had I not come...had Tim gotten held up- This is fucking serious."

"It was an accident, though." His eyes bounced from the doc to his son, back and forth, back and forth.

"Yeah, that's what they all say. Last words." Jed wasn't angry, he was scared.

Todd pulled away, feeling small and weak and broken. He sat on the bed and looked up at the men in front of him. He wondered where the kids were...but then remembered Tea driving away, and Lucia crying that she didn't want him to die in the war, and...and...and all he wanted was to be back there again. Back in the black, back under the water, back... back... back.

"Can we please try outpatient? I want...I want...I want help...I know I need it..." Then the tears started. And he felt like the biggest pussy on earth - hunched over, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking from the sweeping sadness that overtook him. The Narcan hurt not because it burned or anything like that, but because it disconnected the heroin receptors all at once so that like a tsunami, all the pain he'd been trying to avoid came forward in one blow. Few people could handle that kind of hurt without falling apart. Jedediah sat next to him, putting his arm around his weeping father. The scene was so pathetic that Jed couldn't help it.

Sighing hard, Tim rubbed his face, "Okay, look, let's make a deal. You come to Llanview Psych and stay a couple of days. We talk, you and me, we get a good picture of what we're dealing with, and then you decide. How's that?"

After a minute, after he gently shook off his kid, he whispered, "Okay...okay...but no more than a day. And I need to talk to people...you can't take away my cell. I need it."

"We'll figure out something. Come on. Let's go. NOW."

Todd looked at Jedediah whose features showed that he hadn't yet let go of the near-miss. "Please, Dad. I thought you were done with this. At least...to this degree. It's been a long time."

"I know," Todd sighed, visibly shivering. "I don't understand...I did the same amount I always do."

"Get him a shirt, jacket...something," Tim said, "He's in shock." Tim pulled out his own cell and spoke in somber tones to someone, stepping into the hallway. Todd watched him, again, like a puppy.

There was no arguing the evidence. Just like his kid said, this was fucking serious.

Jed went to the drawers and pulled out a t-shirt, a zippered sweatshirt. Got him a clean pair of jeans and boxer briefs. Handed them to Todd who quickly stripped, all modesty gone. Once dressed, he stepped over to the dresser, looking for the heroin dust that he'd snorted away. Ran his fingertips across the wood. Licked them. Looked back on his arm where the blood had been. The afternoon came back to him. Fuck. Someone had kissed him. He touched his lips. He was really mixed up. He rubbed his arm...wanting a syringe for real now. Leaned on the dresser's top and fought wracking sobs that were building in his chest. He looked at Tim with such misery that the doctor walked over to him and rubbed his shoulder.

"It's okay, it's okay. We're going to fix this."

"I don't know myself without it - I don't know if I can fix it."

"Well, yeah, you've been abusing heroin for nearly _ten_ years. 'Course you don't know who you are without it. And truthfully..." His tone softened and he bent his head to get a little closer. "Truthfully, it's going to be near impossible to break without residential treatment."

"I can't leave them. You don't understand."

Jedediah DID understand. He was kind of agreeing with Todd. At least for now, with things so hot. "Doc, maybe outpatient would work? He can stay with me. I got his old Penthouse. Plenty of room. I mean...since Tea kicked him out and everything. That way he doesn't have to actually..._leave._"

Tim knocked his head back, the mess and suitcases suddenly making sense. "Ooookay...I see. You guys had a fight...I get it. Let's not make any commitments now. More tomorrow. When your head is clearer."

Tim turned to Jedediah, "Bring a bag later tonight to the hospital. Have Tea call me. I'll get him there myself. He's okay, Jed. You all right?"

Jedediah looked at Todd who just stared at the packed suitcases, looking like he was still trying to figure out the mess, and nodded. He also took a deep, relieving breath. "Yeah...we been in worse places. I'm just a little shell-shocked right now. This was the last thing I thought I'd find when Tea called me earlier today. She told me he had to get out after last night but she didn't mention THIS."

"So what happened last night?"

"Well...they had a fight, like you said. He can tell you the rest. Long story. Um...I'm going to kick it here. Hang out a few days until we know where he's going. Maybe Tea will have gotten over it? But like I said, he can stay with me."

Tim's cell phone buzzed and he stepped away again.

Todd had wandered into the vastness of the room, looking around. Confused. Kept rubbing his arm where the blood had been. He knew himself...he did not take enough to overdose. God, he wanted to go back to the deadness...it had been JUST like before. And that's when it hit him. It had been...just like with Brandy. The not-breathing thing. A shudder of desire ran through him...fuck...a very bad seed had been planted with this little..._foray_.

Jed got close to him, pulling him out of his memories, and said in a low voice, "Where's all your gear, Pops?"

"Huh?"

"Your shit...the needles, the lighter...the latex...or did you use a belt? You're obviously shooting up again. Blood was all over your arm."

"You think that was from an injection site?"

"Dad...yeah..."

Todd instinctively rubbed his arm, not looking, still too shock-ey. "Jed, I don't have any of that shit here. Look around. I meant what I said...I used a regular amount...the usual way...this shouldn't have happened."

"Just snorted it..."

"Yes...and not that much. For fuck's sake, my kids were home. What I did was bad enough...but...I'd never fucking dose up with a needle...not here, not like that. At least...not today, not yesterday...not since before Statesville. Not like before." He was worried...Jed filled in the thought.

"Not so sure about tomorrow, though."

Todd cursed under his breath, rubbing that arm. Jed could practically feel his father's hidden desires and it blew Jed's mind. He'd nearly died and here he is, not fifteen minutes later...wishing to get back there again. Addiction is a horrible, horrible pit of hell. Jed sighed...

Tim came to them, held Todd's shoulder, saying softly but firmly. "Come on." Todd agreed and followed his friend out. Taking one last look at Jed, perplexed but not quite following. Too much other shit crowding the real mystery.

Jed though...he wasn't that crowded.

The two left down the hallway and Jedediah looked around the room, at the mess...he looked towards the window, towards the seat where Todd had been. Jed knelt, then got low on the floor on his belly, like a snake. Searched under the bed, the furniture and the chairs. Something caught his eye. Shiny in the late afternoon light. Walking over there, he bent and picked up a syringe that had slipped under the chair. Blood on the needle. Todd lied to him? Surprise, surprise.

But then, where was the spoon or the little bottle caps he used to use? Dirty cotton balls. The lighter. The latex strap. Even a belt lying around. For being that out of it, there is no way he'd have had the clarity of mind to put shit away...all the gear should have been where he'd shot up. Either by the chair...or in the bathroom. Maybe the bed.

Jed looked all over. Found nothing. Dug into drawers, the closet, in between the mattresses. He pressed the pillows and the seat cushions. Ran his hands behind the picture frames. There was a safe in the closet and he knew the combo. Tea had shared it. Opened it up...found cash, papers, jewelry. Nothing special. Certainly no drug paraphernalia.

He walked back to the bathroom again...and saw nothing. No latex strap, no spoon, no cotton, no blood on the floor 'cause Todd was always a messy IV user...nothing, just the syringe. Something wasn't right.

He wrapped the needle up in tissue and booked it downstairs, stuffing the thing in his bicycle bag. Hiked the bag on his shoulder and opened the front door. The two men were still here, Tim on the cell in the car, Todd smoking a cigarette on the passenger side, his arm hanging outside the window. Much calmer. Much more accepting.

From the front, Jedediah watched Tim start up the car, put his seat belt on, and begin driving down the driveway. So many times, Todd went to get help...and simply...never made it there. Running, running...always running, just like Jed used to do.

Somehow though, Jed wondered whether this was one time Todd shouldn't make it. He needed to be out and about. Something nagged at him...someone wanted Todd put away wet. Maybe...dead?

Jed broke into a sprint, slamming the car door with his fist. The car jerked to a stop.

"I'm going with you. I don't trust him."

Jedediah got inside and the three men took off.

From the shadows at the side of the Manning house, Rolon Lopez stepped into the light. Leticia had told him that Todd had gotten with her again, had gotten good and fucked up like back in Statesville. Rolon knew his friend pretty well...next step was physical addiction. Rolon had seen these jumps in use before. First he chipped, then he started in on the hard use. Then he'd get hooked, then he'd kick...and the cycle would begin anew.

Sure enough, when Rolon went into the house to nose around after the wife left with the kids, he found Todd nodded out. He hadn't really expected it. He wanted to plant the drug...tempt Todd into mainlining because that was death, and a perfect setup. Eh...who was he kidding. He'd been flying by the seat of his pants. But he decided that he'd take advantage. So he stroked the long hair of his unconscious friend, saying a kind of goodbye. He loved him, he did. They'd been through a lot of shit together.

It hurt a little to lift the man's deeply scarred arm and tie the latex. Hurt when he saw a good vein and stuck him with the syringe. It hurt more to push down on the barrel and watch the powerful hit go in. When Rolon untied the latex and pulled out the syringe, the heroin hit the guy's blood like fucking fire and Todd's eyes flew open. Rolon jumped back, shocked that it had affected his friend that way. He stuffed the latex in his pocket, but the syringe had dropped, disappeared. Totally couldn't find it.

Todd had stumbled to the bathroom, fell, vomiting hard on the floor, barely making the rest of the trip to the can. He ambled back in the room with eyes nearly closed and fell back into the chair, so gone that he didn't even see Rolon...fell back asleep like it was all so normal. Rolon sat for a while watching Todd...watched the breathing slow...Rolon felt his heart for the slowed beat. He bent and kissed him on the mouth, old-school Cuban style.

"Goodbye, _hermano_. Forgive me."

He'd been so SURE it was enough. He always said Manning was fucking impossible to kill and once again, he was proven right. Rolon sighed and he made his way to the back of the house. Despite the love, the guy had become a major problem to MK. A serious liability. Pedro had become too soft on Manning...too accommodating. Things had to be done.

Damn.

* * *

><p>R.J. Gannon's bar was probably the prettiest in all of Llantano County. Dark woods, high beams, mirrors in all the right places, lounge chairs that you sunk into, soft metal tables that you could lick caviar off of. He laughed a deep laugh as he hung up his cell, chuckling at one of his friends' woman problems. He poured a drink for a customer and then went back to his inventory. Marking the bottles along the wall on paper, noting the low ones, noting what there was too much of. His signature dreads decorated with beads for the last few months, not too much mind you, just enough, swung as he walked, adding to his overall sexiness. Yeah, he couldn't help it. Born that way.<p>

The night was just getting started, but it was going to be a quiet one. It was a Sunday after all.

When he was done, he put the paperwork away and looked at his cell. Listened again to Todd's threatening message. "Bastard. I'm not Jed's goddamn babysitter." Hit the delete button, cursing Todd again.

They had a touchy relationship due to Tea Delgado Manning. She'd taken to coming here during Todd's stint in Statesville, enjoying R.J.'s bar and his company. Her first few times, however, she was downright blue. Todd had just gone to prison and she was fit to be tied, broken-hearted at the whole thing. And pregnant to boot.

So R.J. took to talking to her, took to plying her with a few virgin drinks to bring out her smile. They began a whole pursuit of virgin cocktails. They'd gotten to be good friends.

Then one day...well, she was six months pregnant, and glowing like an angel. Everyone could see it. And this...bastard of a man, this tall, strapping Latino dude started hitting on her. And she was responding. She liked the attention...she liked his touches of her. She danced with that baby bump and the two seemed like shit was gonna happen. R.J. got real protective of her and that baby. He didn't give a shit about Manning...all he cared about was Tea and who would be...Lucia.

So he got onto that dance floor with his bouncers and fuckin' bounced that guy. Swept Tea away into his office...and she cried real hard tears. She just wanted to be with Todd again. And he wouldn't let her see him and...R.J. kissed her. Kissed her hotly...and touched her, touched her skin, and the next thing he knew, he was inside of her. The two were on his couch in his office and...fuck. Made love with that baby in between them.

Might as well have been the man himself in between them.

What a fuckin' mess that was.

Four years of a fuckin' mess.

Tea had papers all ready to go, R.J. and her convinced they were in love, and...could make a real go of things...but then Manning got out. And poof...R.J. disappeared like fog burned off by a hot sun.

Shit, he could still remember the sight of Todd Manning in the bar, like out of a western movie. He slammed the doors open, stalked across that wood floor, Statesville all over him. Hair swinging, tattoos screaming. He'd been home one freaking day. He had that walk, that injured panther's walk...and R.J. knew. Oh god, he knew that Todd KNEW.

Before R.J. could grab his trusty nine, he got a spit wad in his face and Todd's fist dead center in his throat. In all of R.J's life, he'd never been hit that hard. It was like that sonofabitch had weights in his knuckles. R.J. dropped like a stone, choking near to death. A bouncer came flying at Todd, two of them, and one, two, slashes of a switchblade out of nowhere and those guys were flat on their backs grabbing at their slashed necks, guns still holstered. Todd lifted R.J. by the shirt in one hand, the dreads in the other, and dragged him to the back office where he slammed the shit out R.J. He hardly got a breath of air...before Todd was bent over and spitting words in his face...

_You never...NEVER fuckin' talk to her, look at her, call her...think her fuckin' name in that fuckin' Jamaican head of yours. If you do...I will KILL you. I will cut your dick off, make you eat it, and then I will fuckin' KILL your black ass._

With that, all R.J. remembered was Todd's boot barrelling down on his head, his scowling mug above that boot. Lights...out. Jesus, R.J. Gannon was a tough guy, but he'd been out of Joliet a long time. Todd...had just gotten out...and he'd been turned into quite the ogre. R.J. didn't take revenge. He could have, but...let it go. He understood.

Plus...he had Jedediah. Todd would always tread lightly because of it. R.J. allowed Todd that one assault. One more move...and R.J. could have Jedediah clipped out the sky...easy as pie. Todd knew that.

Not that R.J. would ever want to direct his own venom against that kid...R.J. smiled. He started working with Jed right after Tea started coming to the bar. He was eighteen and needed a job so R.J. hired him to do inventory, wash dishes. From there...their relationship grew. All kinds of shit they'd been into together, and that kid shined. He was smart, strong in character, and knew how to fight. And he was a pilot. What a great deal. It was fun. Pure fun. They'd flown all over the country, delivering goods, all kinds of... um... _product_. Some legal, some...not so much.

So great was Jed that R.J. couldn't believe he was Manning's son. But then, there were times when he'd be well reminded that Jed Chant was a Manning through and through. Times when they came across misbehaving customers, cons who thought they could get the better of R.J. and his liquor. Jedediah would wail on them, kicking the shit out of them, a big bad-ass knife ending up in those cons' throats...and THAT's when R.J. saw the connection. Jedediah wasn't a big man...but he was mean and fast. Just like his fuckin' dad.

Good times. R.J. took a shot of rum at the recollection. Wished for the death of a certain someone.

When R.J. looked up, he saw the devil herself in the door...and cursed. Tea Delgado Manning sauntered her way across the room, swinging those hips, tapping those heels. She hit the bar and smiled at her old friend. "Vodka tonic," she said. It had been a while since they'd seen each other. Always platonic. Of course. Her eyes, though...they were icy.

"He know you're here?" R.J. asked. The usual question.

"Nope...he's in rehab."

"Bullshit."

She shook her head. "No, no, really, he's using again."

R.J. poured the drink and slid it across the counter top. Sighed. Held her gaze.

"Wait...you're saying bullshit to the rehab."

"He loves that shit - he'll never give it up."

She took a long swallow. "You know about the women who give it to him?"

"You mean, Leticia and Jovanna."

"God damn it. And of course, you know about Mambo Kings. THAT I knew."

He sighed again, sniffed, looking around for unwanted listeners. "Woman...you talk too loud. Come to my office. Let's talk there."

Inside his office, the two looked at each other, remembering too many nights, too much closeness. He cleared his throat and sat on the couch. Tea took a seat across from him. "He knows about us...you and me."

He sniffed, looked around, stopped on her beautiful face. "I know. I have the scars to prove it."

Tea paused, closing her eyes momentarily. Shaking her head. "He hit you."

"He left your bed, the day after he came home...and came straight here. Beat the crap out of me. Warned me to stay away from you. I obliged, woman. Lost my voice for a month..."

Her iciness faded. She'd seen what R.J. was referring to...Todd punching someone in the throat. "I'm sorry." Her voice had softened and she got up, moving in next to him. "I'm so sorry."

He smiled and gazed at her, "Hey, I wasn't surprised. If you were MY woman, I'd have done the same thing. Sometimes...I feel like doing it right back at him. But...you chose. And I respect that."

She leaned her head on his shoulder and he settled back with her. A little...hesitatingly. Felt like a dog that had been smacked one too many times. Fully expected Manning to come ramming through the door to his office. Even after three years.

"And yes," he said, "I more than know about MK. I work with them, with your husband. They come here. Jovanna is one of my girls, sorry to say, but because of that, I know what your bastard of a husband does with his time away from you." R.J.'s expression darkened into a bitter hate. Tea bit down on her teeth, her own features darkening with an even deeper hate. She let him talk.

"Leticia is an MK girl. Works their bars. Jovanna is good friends with Leticia. Anyway, your husband and me...we got an understanding, a connection. In fact...I'm trying to help with this sitch regarding Los Serranos. It's got MK in a bind."

Pulling away from him, she looked surprised. "Really?"

"Really...I'm trying to help them, really, I know your man's dates, or...really, they're in a bind?"

"All of it. How are you trying to help?"

"I'm in with the Jamaican Posse...they're my people and I'm helping broker a truce. The Jamaicans are sort of the...NATO of Pennsylvania gang life. Anyway, the war between the Irish and the Serranos is causing MK trouble because MK deals with both groups and neither group wants MK dealing with the other, yet both are major sources of business for MK...follow me? "

"Sounds like elementary school."

He laughed a little, "Yeah...elementary school with guns and knives."

"He has _dates _with these women?"

"You really want to know?"

Tea bit her lip...and then said, "Yes."

"How detailed?"

"Do you...know the details?"

"The girls talk."

"Just lay it out, R.J. He won't." She got sad at that...thought about some things Todd had said, how Tea...TEA closed herself off from him.

R.J. took her hand in his, the action pulling her out of her thoughts, back to the _details_...smiled at her, "He doesn't deserve you, you know."

"Just tell me."

"Okay. I'm gonna tell ya'... he's a shithead, but maybe...anyway..." He paused, caressing her hand. "Tea, he don't sleep with them, he don't use these women like you might think. He got limitations on his...contact...with them, and he's a real prick about it." Tea needed more. He sighed, blowing air out of his mouth, clearly uncomfortable but trying to power through. "If the girls ask for more than he wants to give, he'll get pretty rough with them. He's a mean bastard...then he gets high...then he wants..." R.J. stopped. "Tea..."

Tea sighed, air catching in her throat, a strong wave of pain pressing against her insides. She put her hand on R.J.'s mouth, his lips, and turned away. Brandy lived in these women...she'd never go away. She seemed more alive now, than ever. She recalled the night he got interrogated. He wanted her to touch him, just her hand, and he'd gotten a little high off of it. It screamed of addiction. She remembered all too well - that hadn't been the only time he acted that way.

"Let me finish," she said. "He just wants them to touch him. Just...a hand."

"Yeah. Nothin' else."

"Does he kiss them, touch them back?"

"Yeah, sometimes, so they say. I mean, I don't know for sure, but like I said...he's real specific in his wants, real limited, real...intense. But, baby, Tea, it's all about the heroin. Nothin' else. When he's not using, he don't have anything to do with these women. I don't know why the hell I'm defending the guy...shit." He knew why, he defended for Tea. So her heart wouldn't be as hurt as it could be. Otherwise...hell no. Todd was a bastard who needed killing.

She sighed again, more harshly. "TMI."

"You asked."

"How is this truce going to help Todd, not that you care..."

"I care about you. If shit's coming down on him...it's coming down on you and the kids. So I care. But...here's the idea...if the war quits, maybe Bo will cool his pursuit of MK, of your husband. Simple. Small chance...but it's better than nothing. Plus...no more dead innocent teenagers."

Tea smiled and settled back in with him, missing her friendship with him. "You must hate him, blindly."

"That I do. He doesn't deserve your love. He doesn't deserve anybody's love." In a quiet voice, he added, "You should have left him when you had the chance. Maybe there's still a way out for you." He eyed Tea, a grim expression on his face. He wasn't kidding.

But she hurt at his words...god, even after learning of the worst betrayal. The thought of Ty's un-fixable killer dogs. Todd deserved love, even so. Even if. Crazily, she felt a moment of panic, that she needed to see him, that she needed to tell him again that he was loved. That there was still hope for him.

For them? She couldn't think of it. She knew what she was getting into when she took him to her bed after Statesville. After Sixteenth Street. He was an addict...would always be one. Heroin would always be his salvation no matter how far away from it he was. And with that, comes...risk. No, no, R.J. was wrong. He deserved love. Even so, even if. Even if she could only love him from far away. From behind very...high...walls.

They were quiet, but R.J. could see that he hit a sore spot with Tea. She had moved a little away from him. Capitulating to her complicated feelings for Manning, he asked, "Is he okay?"

"He's at Llanview Psych...supposedly until tomorrow." Her phone buzzed at that. And she dug it out of her purse. Read a text. Put the cell down on her lap and sighed heavily. "Oh my god...I don't believe it..." Another text popped up. She read that, too..., cursing under her breath, "Damn it."

"What?"

"He stayed there an entire two hours. He split. But he wasn't alone...he's got Jedediah with him. What the hell?"

"He took off from his rehab...rehab for two hours. For a ten year _heron_ addiction."

"Yes. But he has Jed."

"Maybe he went home..."

"I threw him out...he's not at home."

R.J. sniffed, eyed her, a little interested in this tidbit of info, and pulled out his cell. "I'll make calls. Jed and I track him pretty damn good...we're the Todd Manning hound dogs. Mostly so he don't catch us off-guard." He smiled at her, winked. Assuring her. He figured she was going to start crying, maybe get hysterical on him. He got up for the tissues...and Tea got up, too.

Except...she was cool as a cucumber.

She said, "I want to know where I can find this Leticia...and Jovanna. And this bastard, Pedro Moreno. Two possibilities if I know my husband. First, when he's gone off the deep end due to heroin...he gets rabid. He'll be heading to his dealers. Find THEM, and you'll find HIM. Jed is probably just protecting him, just keeping tabs. Second possibility...he might be on a tear regarding this investigation which means...he's rabid and is going to the top of the food chain for help...Pedro Moreno. Again, he's got Jedediah as his ride, or...again, Jed is along to keep tabs."

R.J. eyed her..."Woman..." The iciness had returned.

"If you're a hound dog, then I'm a retriever. So let me...retrieve. Give me... their_ fucking..._ locations." She smiled at him. Winked at him. Inside, she wept. Todd was running, like before. Sixteenth Street loomed in front of her. God, god...

R.J. looked at Tea and realized why she took on Manning's name. She was going to kick some ass, maybe. That poor bastard didn't know what was coming. God help the women she might find him with. God damn.

"Let's go," he said. "You're not hunting OR retrieving without me."

And she smiled at him...agreeing, an edge of sadness there. "Then let's go."

**To be continued...**


	15. Chapter 15

**Caged****Chapter 15**

Rules in prison when it comes to gang politics: there are no rules.

_When Todd emerged from Larry's tattoo shop, alone, marked up in new ink, he was a full-fledged member of the Mambo Kings. It had been a bit of a rush knowing it, getting the M and the K burned onto his skin. But...he didn't know what it meant yet. Didn't know the parameters, the lines. Those were still fuzzy. He did know that he'd be able to finish off Jessie Horenda without getting caught, without his family having to suffer. He knew the kids he protected would have yet another layer of protection against brutal attacks in the event he was killed or...if he managed to get out before they did. He did know that he had to keep MK in mind, first, always when doing business. He didn't yet trust any of it, however, didn't believe in it. He hustled across the yard, just in time for the afternoon roll call before dinner. _

_Just another day._

_Outside the tall prison walls, he lined up next to Rolon and Ernesto. They eyed him, nodded to him. He knocked his head back, hands behind his back, snake tattoo visible on his neck, the spider well-covered beneath the t-shirt, but not its web. The needle's punches still burned on his chest from earlier, the last work being the burying of the MK letters in the angles of spider's heart and the snake's head. Inmate numbers got called by the guards and one by one, the prisoners headed inside to eat._

_The cafeteria filled up fast, rows and rows of tables seated with the varying racial groups that lived in Statesville. The Blacks, the Jamaicans, the Asians, the Whites, the Irish, the Puerto Ricans, the Mexicans...the Cubans, everybody at their own tables. Todd got in line, picked up a tray, stood patiently, his mind on a letter he got from Tea, that Lucia knew her alphabet even though she wasn't even three. A, B, C...the pain from the tattoos had been a release of sorts, and he focused on the burn, a little bit of a lift above the shit._

_Someone bumped up against him, and instinctively, without even thinking, Todd swung around, the tray in weapon mode, ready, ready for anything. A Serrano member glared right back at him. Guards sniffed and turned in their direction but seemingly let it go._

"_You gotta problem," Todd hissed to the Puerto Rican. The guy grinned, whispered, "You gonna die today for what you did to Jessie."_

_Todd grinned right back at him, "Come fuckin' get me." _

"_Oh we will...and it's gonna hurt, motherfucker."_

"_Can't fuckin' wait..._cabron." _The guy lost his grin and Todd turned to collect his dinner. He expected he'd never get a chance to eat it, but nobody bothered him. _

_He left the line and walked down the aisle, heading to a table with his kids. He gave the other cons side glances and he liked that they looked away. Didn't dare challenge him. Not anymore, not like before. People knew what they were getting into. Now._

_Ty Jerome, Brayden Armstrong, Joe Rodriguez and Smithy Jackson waited at an end table. Waited to eat until their boss got there. They all looked up at him and when he sat down, he took in their quiet and nodded at them, giving them the requisite permission to eat. No smiles, no hellos, no chit chat. Hell no. They ate fast, but not fast enough. Todd was hungry and took Smithy's bread roll right off his tray. No asking, nothing. Smithy bit his lip because he was hungry too. Todd ate it while he looked the kid in the eyes, daring the kid to say something. Smithy didn't. One of them had done it once, but never again._

_Smithy swallowed his upset and practically licked the tray. They had to wait for permission to go back to their cell block. Todd took his time eating today, eyes roving the tables, the entrance way; since the run-in with the Serrano, he felt a palpable tension in the room, a kind of widespread hum, like everyone knew something was about to happen. When the kids were done, he let three of them go. They were the runners of information and product if need be, the ones on the field. They'd already done their work. _

_He now sat alone at the table with the most vulnerable kid, Joe Rodriguez, a beautiful 18-year-old with luscious curls, full lips, and a face meant for a magazine cover. He was in for grand theft larceny, having stolen a Maserati car directly from the showroom. He had a knack for that kind of thing. The car dealer had an in with the county prosecutor and Joe only had a public defender. Five to ten in Statesville, parole in three, two for good behavior - harsh. He'd been targeted his first day by the Serranos, but luckily, coincidentally, Todd fought for the right to him and Todd won. As was usual, he always kept the most vulnerable ones by him when he did business. And this was one place Todd held court, so to speak._

_Requests started coming in, one or two cons at a time coming up, sitting, and asking for shit. Todd would negotiate on the price if he had access to or knowledge about what the guy wanted. They spoke low and mostly in loose prison lingo. Some back and forth always happened. The next day the transfers went down, deliveries made, information given. The guards let this go on because it was part of the internal prisoner organization in Statesville, it was part of behavior control._

_Joe's job was to keep track of the requests, and offer up availability status. Like Todd, he had a fantastic memory, not needing notes, notes being rather an impossibility. He could assist in advising whether a deal could be made, he could connect one person's request for another's the day previous. Joe didn't talk directly to the person asking, only to Todd. Joe had the facts while Todd reformulated them into the deal. _

_Odell came to Todd's table, sat down. Spoke in typical low tones, with his signature Jamaican accent, "Got to talk to my SPICY girl on a cell. Looking to END dis romance, mon." He looked at Todd in the eyes, though, intensity there. He was talking about the Serranos._

"_When you gotta have it?"_

"_Like in 15...after da last burrito." When the cafeteria closed for the night. "Whatchu want from me to get dat?" He kept that gaze on Todd who now figured Odell knew when the Serranos were going to gang up on him like...in 15 minutes, as Todd made his way to the cell block. He took a gander of the room, trying to gauge who would be on the assault crew._

"_How many minutes you need?" How many soldiers are in on the attack._

"_Four or five is all." Shit. Four or five Serranos. He had nothing on him, no weapons...nothing. _

"_I'm in real need of basic necessities," he said, "Toothbrush, brush, socks..." Weapons. Anything._

"_I bring you some a'dat. I try real fuckin' hard, my friend." Odell shoved the chair away, walked into the fray. _

_Todd turned to Joe, "You got to get outta here. Go to Rolon, see him? He'll get you to your cell." Joe was a delicate thing who scared easily. He grabbed Todd's sweatshirt sleeve and stared at him, trying not give anything away. Whispered, "If something happens to you, I'm dead." He was shaking, terrified. He knew exactly what Odell was saying. "I think I'm gonna be sick."_

"_Nothing's going to happen...and I swear to fuckin' god, if you puke on me, I'm gonna make you clean the shit up with your tongue. Now let me the FUCK go, and get your ass to Rolon. NOW." Todd had to get mean with him because the kid wouldn't let go. He finally shoved Joe away, making him fall off his seat. After the laughter stopped, Todd turned away, back to the tray. Then watched Joe make his way through the crowd and out into the hallway, but by then, Rolon had disappeared from view. And Todd got real nervous at that...Joe having disappeared too. So he got up. Couldn't keep the tray though. He was naked. And so was Joe._

_Sure enough, when he hit the hallway he saw that Joe had gotten stuck. Five Serranos had crowded him, keeping him from moving anywhere. They were waiting for Todd. It looked like they were just congregating so the guards did nothing. Another Serrano got real close, saying in his ear, "It's time motherfucker. You tried to take one of ours...so we're gonna take you down...and your fuckin' _puto,_ too." _

_One of Odell's people bumped into Todd, pushing a shank into Todd's waiting hand. Not a bad one either. But this was tricky. If Todd reacted, Joe was dead. He was completely stuck. The kid realized it, too. Locked eyes with Todd, looking like a deer in the headlights._

_It was over. The kid's face crumpled with the most horrific reality. Todd saw one of the Serranos turn, a shiny blade in his hand. Another brandished yet another blade._

_Time slows down in those moments...second by second._

_Todd then did the only thing possible. His life didn't matter so much, but the kid hadn't done anything to anybody other than being too gentle, too pretty, for Statesville. Turning fast, Todd made like a lineman and rammed through the Serranos, tackling Joe who fell backwards, hard on the floor. The two slid two or three feet away from the men gaining just enough space, JUST enough space. Joe got crushed against the wall, and Todd flipped over, the shank out._

_The thing happened so fast, the Serranos didn't know what hit them. They were suddenly scrambling and bearing down on Todd and Joe against the wall. But all fuckin' hell broke loose at that...and just as Todd pressed against Joe, thinking he'd take the brunt of the assault...whipping that shank at the first guy that was on him...sinking the thing deep in the guy's shoulder...once, twice, three times..._

_...out of the melee, came three, four MK soldiers flooding the Serranos' attack, fists flying, feet kicking, blood splashing. Todd held his body tight against Joe, grabbing yet another Serrano who thought he could get at the downed con, and slammed him down, the shank tight against the guy's throat. Leaning in, Todd warned him..."It ends here, bitch. Tell your motherfuckin' leader that I have shit on him he don't want known. One more move...and it gets out. REAL...fuckin' OUT."_

_Todd got a hard fist to his face but in response he dragged the blade hard against the guy's neck, blood spilling. The guy was too busy holding his veins in to fight any more._

_The warning horn sounded out at that, guards marching in on the riotous mass. Everyone was fighting...the Mexicans gangs fighting the Black gangs, the Puerto Ricans fighting the MK's, the Irish fighting the Aryans. The MK's beating down the Serranos. Five minutes later, tear gas flooded the hall, rubber bullets went flying, and all the cons dropped to the ground, arms out...legs out. Every weapon that the cons had got tossed - it would be impossible to tell who cut whom, who brained whom._

_Joe reached out to Todd, grabbed his arm, and said, "I owe you my life...for as long as I live."_

_Todd thought the same thing...he owed his life to MK. Now he knew how it would all play out. They had protected him. Ernesto had kept his word._

_Thank...fucking...god. _

* * *

><p>The city darkened early and the wind picked up as Tim dropped off Jed and Todd at the Penthouse, both men hugging their coats to their bodies, feeling a chill that ran deeper than their skin. Tim had been intensely disappointed in the decision of Todd to leave the hospital, but he knew his patient well, knew lots of addicts well. If they didn't want to stay, there was no point. But there was a less common twist to the rejection.<p>

_My family is in danger. I did not OD...someone overdosed ME. Please, please, I have to protect my family first. Something's going on and I have to find out what it is. _

Tim stated the obvious...

_If you hadn't already been high on heroin, Todd, you wouldn't have been vulnerable to someone coming in and upping the dosage. _

Todd countered with typical addict promises.

_I'll do the outpatient program, starting tomorrow. I know I need help. Tea's...very upset...my daughter thinks I'm in a war. I know I need help...but I can't stay for it right now._

Then Jedediah made the final argument.

_I will not leave his side, not for one minute. And Tim, I swear to god, I will shoot him if he touches heroin. Believe me, I don't have any qualms about that. But he needs to be out...someone did this to him. We need to find out who...and we need to be sure they aren't coming to the house again._

So Tim gave in. No choice, really. Todd wasn't staying. Outpatient it is. "You got an appointment tomorrow at noon. My office."

The car drove away, puttering into a bloom of silence, and Todd and Jed made their way to the top floor. P-2. Good times. It had been a while since Todd had visited. The furniture had been changed, the decor a sort of...bachelor's decor. In other words, a mess. First thing...the massive plasma TV was the highlight of the living room. Not art, not beautiful appointments, no...the TV. Video gaming systems flanked the large screen, wires from gaming controls fell all over the place, tens of CD's had been flung about the stereo, empty and not-so-empty pizza boxes and Chinese food cartons draped every flat space available, not to mention the empty and not-so-empty beer bottles...and...

Todd tilted his head in the direction of a seemingly pink-lighted lamp in the corner of the room, "Is that...?"

"Panties...sorry...oops..." Jed hopped over there, grabbed them, tucked them into his pocket, the lamp returning to a tame yellow-white light. Smiling sheepishly. "One of those nights..." Disappeared into the kitchen. "You hungry, Pops? Wanna sandwich...a beer?"

"Seriously, Jedediah Chant, you're quite da' man. Just a beer, I guess." Todd collapsed on the couch, still a little shaky from his very long afternoon. Picked up the remote, and after figuring out how it worked with the satellite TV, picked up another remote and started changing channels mindlessly until he found a basketball game. Huddled deep into the seat cushions. Though he watched the game, his mind was elsewhere.

The convo with Tim had been intense, the truth laid out as best he could. Mostly. It all came down to a lingering case of PTSD complicated by prison, the MK web he couldn't get out of... and the star of the fucking show...the drug that had a hold of him by the balls. He admitted he was losing his family due to these things, but still couldn't cop to the depth of his heroin use and all its parameters. He did not talk about the waitress angle...didn't talk about the extra boost he needed so he could avoid mainlining. Didn't talk about what the afternoon had now done to his soul...to that resolve...

He also didn't talk about how for some reason, for some unknown reason, Bo's pursuit had cut him wide open. The gig was up. For the first time since before Statesville, Tea was seeing the truth. And god it was ugly.

_Look, it's not that often...every other month or so...really, hardly anything. And...and...it's not with needles so I'm not really an ADDICT, I'm just...a part-time user, Tim. Like...like recreation...it isn't like before...not at all. Really._

Tim though, didn't buy the bullshit Todd was flinging. He looked at his patient with that same compassion he always had, that same...love. "Kiddo, don't backpedal on me," he said. "You have a serious drug addiction and without residential treatment it's only going to get worse. Do you realize that you've been using in one way or another for _nine years_? All five years of Statesville, the year before that...and now I'm hearing that you've been using for the past three years. Nine. Years. The fact that you lied about it...to me, to your wife, says volumes about its reality. You cannot quit this unless you understand the motivation for it. And to understand that, to tackle that...you have to spend time away from all the triggers that make you want to use."

_Except life itself is a trigger, doc. Breathing is a trigger. When I breathe...I think of not breathing and I know right away how I can make that happen. _He didn't say those words aloud, just thought them.

That's when Tim had come around the big desk and sat in the chair next to Todd, taking both his patient's hands in his and turning them palm up, pointing out the scars, old and new, on his wrists from years of quick release. In that painfully gentle voice he owned, Tim said, "This is much bigger than heroin. You're going to be forty years old soon. Don't you think it's about time you get in control of your life? Stop running, my friend."

Pathetic, really, that Todd Manning, bad-ass motherfucker, right-hand man to the boss of MK, millionaire newspaper man, father...husband that could, would, kill anyone who touched any of his family with his bare fucking hands...how SAD that he acted like a little bitch, a pussy...

"But I'm not an addict, I can stop anytime, I don't get sick if I don't use...I just like to feel better every so often...just a little better, a little relieved from all the shit. That's all it is, even the burns...they're nothing, just like a sip of scotch, yeah," as watery pearls made their way down his face. He pulled his arms into himself, hiding his wrists like some goth-teenage-girl cutter. He didn't even realize the weeping until he tasted the salt his lips. Tim's last comment was barely audible, just an, "Okay." Only then did Todd cover his face, hiding in the shadows, truly this time out of shame.

"Call Tea," Jed said, sniffing, checking his cell phone for the millionth time.

"You call her. She don't wanna talk to me."

"Pops...come on, she needs to know what happened today." Jedediah handed him a cold beer. Todd drank it, slowly. Watched the TV, blinking every so often. Put the cold bottle between his legs, his hand on its weeping neck. Stared some more at the game. The ball being passed, dribbled...sunk. Passed. Dribbled. Sunk. He didn't react to any of the plays, just watched.

"What do you want to do," Jed asked, trying to get him to come alive. "You said you wanted to find the truth of what happened...well, you're free to do it. Let's go...talk to people, do some snooping. Let people see you didn't die."

"I don't even know where to begin..." He watched the game a while, Jed fidgeting, tapping his heel repetitively. Todd glanced at Jed, then dragged his gaze back to the TV. Jed sighed loudly, but then he heard a quiet voice say, "Show me the rig."

Jed jumped up, happy that there was something coming out of his father. He put his beer on the coffee table, walked over to his bag and dug around until he found the evidence. He came back and put the thing down next to his beer. He rolled it out of the tissue paper. It sat there. Todd eyed it. Sipped the beer. Put the bottle down and got close to the thing, scooting to the edge of the couch and bending to look at it. Didn't touch it.

"It was under the chair in your room. You still say it isn't yours, you didn't shoot up?"

"Hell, no. I told you...I wouldn't do that at home with the kids."

Jedediah believed his father, but he saw that Todd got stuck on it, his eyes not moving from it. He watched it, as if it would come to life any moment, as if it held or contained the secrets of the planet, as if it were like...like...

"Precious," Todd sighed. "Goddamn Precious." He sat back and rubbed his face, his eyes returning again and again to the thing. "It's new," he said. "It's from the needle exchange...I know that much. Pretty sure there aren't any fingerprints on it. I cannot wrap my head around this." He watched the game again. Quiet. Thinking. "Put it away," he said.

Jedediah wrapped the thing up again and put it into his bag. Todd just watched the game, watched that ball getting passed around the court from player to player...to player. Sunk. He shuddered, Brandy's face suddenly in front of him, her white, bloodless body laid out on a metal table, riddled with bullets. Her eyes wide open...her lips parted...her teeth all gone...

_What you want, baby?_

Her ruined face morphed into Diego's, into each of his kids in Statesville.

_Let me love you...let me...just for tonight._

The whores who tried to, who did, love him no matter what he did to them. Same as Brandy.

_It feel good don't it? Just a little good...in this hell we're in. Like that...god...like that._

He heard himself say, no, a hard breath really. Ran his hands down his thighs. A remembered hot gasp in his ear, so much wetness. And he sunk deeper into the cushions, unconsciously rubbing his arm now, dying now to escape. Wishing...wishing he was still living the lies, the illusion of sanity. His gaze crashed into Jed's. The kid shook his head, like he knew his father's thoughts. He didn't, though, he'd never know...so Todd prayed.

Jedediah was going to be the grounded one in all of this. "Let's start at the beginning...who wants you dead?"

Todd laughed a little, pulled a few inches above his hell, "Seriously? A whole lot of fuckin' people."

"Who knows about the heroin, then?"

"A slightly smaller list, but...not that much smaller."

"Yeah?"

Adjusting himself on the couch, Todd said, "For five years in Statesville, heroin was a gift of choice in exchange for information. So yeah...a whole hell of a lot of people know it's my..._weakness_."

"And since you've been out?"

He roved the sweet features of his kid, surprised at his innocence still. He said in a softer voice, "Well, my MK bros certainly know. And um...Jed, I get dope from two _whores_. You think they don't talk?"

Clearing his throat, Jed looked a bit into the distance. "Aren't they supposed to be discreet?"

Todd chuckled, "I guess...if you're paying the big bucks for it."

"You don't pay 'em a lot of money?"

Another soft smile crossed his face, one that reached his eyes, at Jed still being a boy, "I pay 'em enough...but not enough for that." He took a deep, tired breath, the humor fading hard, "Truth is...I never ask them to keep quiet..." He was embarrassed, "When I go to them, I only want one thing."

They were quiet a bit, Todd beginning to disappear again into the game. Jedediah pulled him back. Raising his voice a little.

"Okay...yeah...well, let's rule out people who have access to the house. Tea. She wouldn't do this to you. I wouldn't. Starr wouldn't. Not Aunt Viki. The nanny, Heather? She's got a key. Who else has a key?"

"The nanny...she's kinda protective over the kids. Maybe she thinks they'd all be better off without me. The housekeeper."

"Diana..."

"Yeah, but...she's out of town this week. Visiting the 'old country.' Heather's not around this weekend either. At least..." Todd stood but got a little dizzy and fell back. He wasn't himself and Jedediah felt anxious; it was a strange turnaround that Jedediah was feeling like getting on a trail but Todd was being so...quiet about it. He expected more. But...maybe this was about Tea...or maybe, he was feeling...deserving of the OD.

"Dad...we gotta start asking questions...is there someone you trust?"

Todd dragged his gaze away from the game and settled on Jed, smiled a little sadly. "I don't know...maybe Pedro. I used to think I could trust Rolon but he's been an ass lately...so I'm not feeling it."

"How about...R.J.?"

The bottle tipped and Todd emptied it. Had a dark look in his face. Put the bottle down on the table. Settled back and watched the game. Saying nothing.

"He knows a lot of stuff, and you're in pretty good with the Jamaicans...right?"

"Look, I trust him with YOUR life, but not with mine." He glanced at Jed, "Maybe he's the one who came into the house."

"He doesn't have a key, Pops."

"He doesn't?"

Jed shook his head, "No."

"Don't be so sure about that." He cleared his throat, sniffed, and looked around. "When did you become such a pig? This place is a fucking sty." He got up, more steady this time. "I'm gonna shower." He then wandered up the stairs. Jedediah heard a door slam. He was used to Todd's cutting remarks so he wasn't fazed - plus Todd was never an R.J. fan. Mention him and his father invariably got pissed off. He'd try not to, for Jed's sake...but he always ended up pissed off anyway. Jed was never sure why and R.J. never educated him on their history. He picked up his cell. Dialed the only person any of them could trust.

"Hey, Tea..."

She didn't respond right away, surprised perhaps. She then spoke in a patient tone, serious. Sounded like a lawyer. He couldn't tell where she was, a car, inside, outside..."Let me pull over." A car. In a moment she said, "Jed...where are you? Is your father with you?"

"Yeah...we're at my place."

She breathed out, whispered to someone before turning back to the phone. "Why isn't he at the hospital?"

"'Cause someone tried to kill him today."

More delayed response. "Did you say-"

"This afternoon, I got to the house, just like you told me to...and well, he OD'd. Tim had to give him a shot to wake him up, like two shots...he wasn't breathing, hardly a pulse..." Jedediah huffed, recalling too sharply the images from today, from once a long time ago.

More silence. Then, "God...so he's back into it. Jumped into that hell like we are NOTHING." She was angry...hurt...worried. Jed could hear it all.

"No...I don't think so, Tea. Someone got in your house and did this to him."

"Oh Jedediah...did he tell you that? Honey..."

"No! I mean it...this is real. I found a needle, but nothing else. First, you and I both know that if he really went back...he'd have done it someplace else, not at home with all of you guys there. Like a motel. Like the China Moon."

She was quiet. "But we weren't there, Jed. I left him. He was alone."

Jedediah gave her that - Todd kept saying the kids were there, but he might have done it once they left. True that. He didn't think about that. "Okay...point...but here's the thing, like I said, there wasn't anything else around it. Just the needle. No strap to pop a vein, no spoon to melt the drug, no cotton ball that he used to 'purify' the juice...nothing. Just...a needle. That doesn't make sense."

"I don't know, honey." She breathed out again, an audible sound of frustration. She whispered a curse. "I'm so sorry...I'm sorry this is hard for you to accept. That he's an addict again. It's very hard for me too. It breaks me, actually."

"Yeah, that he's using at all is really messed up. But here's the thing. I've been around him when he's gotten fucked up like that before. I know what he's like when he's using needles. I know what his space looks like. Blood on the floor, the crap lying all around him, a needle to the side...and him unconscious. It wasn't like that. It was just him...out cold...and this one needle under the chair. Makes no sense, Moms. I know what I know."

"Oh Jed..." Of course he knew … and she hated Todd for it. She hated that Todd abused him that way back when Jed was dragged into heroin hell with Brandy. She breathed to calm this old, old upset at the past. She thought she had let it go. It surprised her to feel it again.

"Can you come here...to talk to him?" She didn't say anything. "Please? We need to figure this out and he's just moping...Tea, I think he liked being dead a little too much."

Unfortunately, his last words did not hit her the way he wanted. She shot out, "Of course he liked being dead...because that way he wouldn't have to stop using, wouldn't have to grow up, wouldn't have to do the right THING for US!"

She hung up. Jed leaned back, pissed that he'd said too much. Two seconds later, she was calling again.

"He's still there?"

"Yeah... Look, he was pretty gung-ho to get to the bottom of this at the hospital, but now..."

"He's just sorrowful that he's been caught. Now he has to do something about it. _Bastard sonofabitch_."

She hung up.

When Jedediah looked up, Todd was there, soaking wet, a towel around his waist. He'd heard enough, Tea's hate carrying outside the cell phone, into the air. "Don't call her back. Leave her alone. She's hurt. She hates me badly. I don't blame her."

The cell rang and they both looked at it, Tea's picture popping up on the screen. Todd grabbed it right out of Jed's hand... "Tea, don't hang up." It was quiet. "I know things are sort of shitty right now-"

"I'm out looking for you. Headed to the first of three addresses that I was pretty sure you were at. Two of the addresses belong to the waitresses you see. I'm surprised you're at the Penthouse. I thought for sure-"

In a soft, defeated voice, he said, "I got no interest in them, Tea. Plus I'm with Jed. He threatened to shoot me if I left his side. Something like that."

"Jedediah's got some insane idea about today, that your OD was an attempted murder. I don't believe it for one goddamned second. Look, I'm near the Penthouse. I'm coming up...for your son, not for you. And I'm not alone."

She hung up. Todd tossed the phone back to Jed, adding, "She's here...she's got someone with her..." He walked back upstairs, two steps at a time. Five minutes later, Todd came down, fully dressed in one of Jed's hoodies, a tee, and his own jeans, hair in a pony. Bare feet. Despite the shower, he felt tired. The doorbell rang...and he practically ran to get it. He started to wonder if maybe she had Starr with her...who would she have help her look for him?

When he opened the door, he was staring at his beautiful wife in her tight jeans, a hugging sweater, and sharp heeled black boots...and right next to her, stood a black-leather clad R.J. Gannon, dreads hanging to his chest, a face straight out of fuckin' hell. Eyes, dark pits of raw contempt.

"Hello Manning," R.J. purred, "...sorry to see you're not six feet under after all."

A struck-mute Todd glared at him, then slammed that beyond-venomous stare straight at Tea. He was about to say something ugly, but before the rancor shot off his tongue, R. J. poked him hard in the chest, "Don't you fuckin' look at her like that, asshole."

Jedediah heard the voice and hopped, skipped, and jumped to the door, just as Todd shoved the hell out of R.J., slamming him against the hallway wall...just as R.J. took out his trusty nine...

...and aimed that Glock right at Todd's head, Todd knocking back a step. Everyone froze, Tea's voice choking out a reactive plea, "R.J.!"

He took steps forward, the gun firmly in his hand, Tea's voice a forever-confirmation of where her heart lie. Always, always with that bastard.

"Get the fuck back inside you piece of shit. We're here to help you...because your WIFE...still fuckin' loves you even though you been lying to her for the past eight years about what a piece of shit you really are."

Todd stepped backwards, like the restrained pit bull he was, growling, breathing hard, with a killing stare on his mug. R.J. pushed, pushing him...the gun still in Todd's face...pushing him right back inside the Penthouse. Jed and Tea followed. The door closed.

Just another day in Todd Manning's life.

* * *

><p>It had taken some time for Todd to gather himself, some time to stop wanting to kill R.J. Of course, the entire brain and nerve re-organization was done at the behest of the man's 9mm Glock. He yelled at first, yelled at Tea for bringing R.J. to the Penthouse, but R.J. waved the gun...<p>

…"Shut the hell up, Manning. Talk to Tea like she's the love of your miserable life, like she's a goddamn angel."

"Fuck you! Who the hell are you-!"

"Uhhh...I don't think so...still too loud. In fact, why don't you sit the fuck down. Come on, piece of shit. Sit down."

Todd looked at Tea who stood quietly with Jedediah at the dining table. Saying nothing to intervene. Offering nothing by way of her expression other than clipped love. Jed was far more affected and he visibly fought between staying put to guard Tea, and grabbing that gun or rolling R.J. Todd finally had to restrain himself in the interest of Jed - he knew his kid and could see the steam building. Friend or not, R.J. came second. Finally, Todd gave in, putting his hands up.

"Fine...," he huffed, before plopping down on the couch, his entire body visibly jerking with frustration. "You feel good with that gun in your hand, bitch, but it ain't gonna last..." He could have tackled R.J., could have grabbed the gun...and in the past he would have, in any other environment he would have. But his family was here, his wife, his son. If the weapon had gone off...

R.J. actually sat nearby, the weapon still in his hand, conveniently aimed at Todd.

"Now," R.J. said, "we good? You ready to talk about what might have happened today? You wanna hear what I know?"

"Put the fuckin' gun away first. You talk about me treating Tea poorly? And you pull a gun around her, around my kid?"

"Son, you're far worse than any kind of gun I could pull on anyone, and you're married to her...you _breathe_ around your kids...this ain't nothin'."

Todd growled, his eyes narrowing, showing his bottomless loathing for R.J., R.J. returning the favor.

Tea spoke up, "R.J. thinks Jed is right, that you didn't overdose yourself."

"So glad for that," Todd spat.

"I, on the other hand," Tea threw in, "disagree. I think you're shooting up again and you're lying about it, letting your son believe in this garbage."

Todd sighed, rubbed his face, pulling back on his hair that he forgot was tied. He settled back in the cushions. "I didn't...use a needle."

"But you were high," Tea said.

"Yes, but not from a needle. MY high wasn't from a needle...the other guy's high WAS."

"You got high in our house."

"Yes, I _am_ a piece of shit...for doing that in our bedroom with all of you at home. Hear, hear...for me."

Tea got up at that, walking close to Todd. She now stood over him, looking down at him, light shining on what she'd seen earlier in the day. He looked up at her. She hissed, "You got high...before Lucia came to you in the shower. You held my daughter in your arms when you were high on heroin."

He visibly swallowed, a thumb rubbing the inside of his wrist. He did not object to her assessment of the afternoon, shrugging slightly, catching her eyes. She reached back and slapped him hard across the cheek. She looked like she wanted to do more. Held herself back. "You bastard. You abused Jed that way...and you're now abusing Lucia. This...I cannot forgive."

R.J. got up and gently pulled her back, realizing that he didn't think he'd ever seen Todd looking UP at anyone. Manning always looked down at people. Literally. And if he was caught...down...it was never for long. He really was afraid that the guy might do something to her, but even he could see that Todd wasn't in his usual fighting mode. He'd been bested hard by his addiction. R.J. almost...ALMOST...felt sorry for the guy. He had to stop himself from wrapping his arms around Tea, her body trembling with rage.

"Come on, woman," R.J. urged, "He got the picture."

"Really? What's next Todd? Ohhh...what am I talking about? You od'd. That's what's next."

"I'm sorry, Delgado," he said, sorrow softening his voice. "I'm sorry for using as I did. It was dead wrong, I knew it then, I know it now. But I swear to you, I didn't use a needle. I am not mainlining."

"Great. You're not doing it now...but you will be doing it, won't you? WON'T YOU!"

Tea shook R.J. off, pain beginning to break through the rage. She sat down in another chair, her eyes on her husband who had chosen to lay back on the cushions, his eyes on the ceiling. His arms were folded above his head, and Tea could see the markings on his wrists. She squeezed down the empathy that was crawling upwards...like acid. Her rage fizzled, those burns hitting her in the pit of her being. Once more she wondered how she could not see the pain he'd been in for the past three years? Jesus... he'd said she was the one closed off. Maybe he was right.

"You want to know what I think?" R.J. asked, his weapon holstered now.

"I don't care what you think," Todd said, his voice quiet, "but maybe Jed does."

"This is an inside job. I think someone in MK has it out for you."

Todd looked at R.J. "No way. They protect me...they been doing that for the past five years."

R.J. chuckled, "You cannot be that...addled... by the shit running through your veins. You are Pedro's MAIN man, you got all the chips. He don't make a fuckin' move without YOUR say-so. You see that, don't you?"

Shrugging, he went back to the ceiling. Jedediah came down, too. Sitting near Tea. R.J. dropped back to his spot. The four now in the same space.

"Well, it's true. I see it from my little perch in my office, I hear _dat_ from my people." R.J. mimicked the Jamaican accent. "_Dat's_ where you need to look, _mon._" He then added in all seriousness, "Besides, Manning...where were your protectors today?"

Yeah...where were they? Todd thought back to his contacts recently with MK, the little comments about him taking the fall for all the crap going on with the Serranos. To Pedro saying he wasn't going to protect Todd so long as he was using. Thought of Pedro's desire to get out of crime, the fact that Todd was his right-hand man in making that happen. Someone might not be too happy about that. This held water. He looked up, Jed seeing light in those eyes of his father.

"Shit," he said.

"Dad...is this likely?"

"Maybe...," Todd said. "But who?"

"Who's next in line to you?"

"Nobody here that Pedro trusts...irony is that I can never be him. I'm not Cuban. I will never RUN MK. Taking me out...will just leave an open space. Nobody will step into my shoes, nobody will be me. I'm completely...a fuckin' aberration. An apparition...I disappear...I'll just be gone."

Tea watched him, feeling that he was talking more about dying as a human being, than about dying as an MK soldier. She spoke up, "But Pedro depends on you. Someone might not like your input. Without you...maybe Pedro makes different choices."

Jed said, "So who might know MK's dirty laundry?"

Todd sighed, looked at Tea, "Leticia."

Tea snapped back, "Well, let's go see..._Leticia, _then."

R.J. nodded, "Sounds sensible."

"I'll call her," Todd said.

"You're not seeing her without me," Tea said.

A knowing expression fell on his face, "You better tighten your boots, then...keep your claws in check...because if we want her to _talk,_ a rough hand ain't gonna be the way."

R.J. filled in the blanks when he saw Tea's questioning look. "Leticia...will have to be handled gently, petted like a kitty cat." He gazed at Todd, "Maybe I better talk to her."

"What," Todd growled, "I AM capable of treating her nicely. More than that."

"That's not what I heard," R.J. snapped.

"Fuck you, what the hell do you know? I treat women perfectly well, especially those who-"

"Give you the _heron_," R.J. finished the sentence.

"Yes," Todd agreed, pointing a finger at R.J. "Exactly that."

Tea leaned forward, her head in her hands, "I cannot believe this conversation. _Madre de dios, ayudame, por favor._"

Jedediah intruded into the convo..."Umm...let me talk to her. I am VERY capable of petting...a kitty cat." He turned to Todd..."Call her. Tell her I need some initiating. Shit...do I have condoms?"

"And the discussion just gets better..." Tea grumbled as Jed hit the stairs running, commenting that he was pretty sure he still had some, that he hadn't used all of them. When she looked up, she saw Todd and R.J. laughing, the two men seemingly having found a common cloud to sit upon. She looked at the dark windows and hoped the night would take all of them somewhere better than before.

Truth was, she wished she were living the lies, the illusion of sanity.

**To be continued...**


	16. Chapter 16

**Caged****Chapter 16**

Back in the day before Todd had gone to Statesville, he'd wear his pain like a black trench coat, bloody from the people he'd shredded, from his own history. Catch him in a moment and there in his eyes would be the suffering child, the boy murdered in his bed by a monster of a father. Catch him on a bad day and there he'd be on the floor, wracked with soul-cutting pain, needing love like air and yet not able to breathe.

Tea had learned that she held a key to giving him relief and that was part of what bound them together. The light in her eyes reached the darkness at his core, the warmth in her hands and voice soothed the cold in his bones. Giving away love and heat...soothed her loneliness and her ancient feelings of being worthless in the world.

It hurt deeply to know that he had found more literal relief to be the most effective - at least in his eyes. A wave of nausea rose inside of her and she tamped it down. She had been operating under a completely incorrect premise...that SHE was enough for him, enough to keep him off the self-destruction track. This touched an even deeper note...that of competence and adequacy. She wasn't...competent. She was inadequate. For a lawyer, these words signaled a death-knell.

_Damn._

The laughter of Todd and R.J. Gannon at Jed's enthusiasm died down and the quiet crept into the room. The air chilled, the lights of the city wavered in a winter's wind making the city unreal, imaginary. The game still played on the muted TV and Todd watched the ball. Back and forth those green-brown eyes went, following the players, following that b-ball. R.J. cleared his throat and got up with a groan, commenting that he needed a drink. When he took steps away, Todd said in a subdued voice, "You really think that someone from inside MK tried to kill me."

R.J. hesitated. Looked at Tea who was sitting on the distant chair, her head in her hands. Overwhelmed by the day. He wanted to touch her, to comfort her, but knew there was nothing he had that could soothe her hurts. The only thing that would work, was the very cause of her pain: Todd. "Yeah," R.J. agreed. "'Less you shootin' up again."

Instinctively, without thought, Todd rubbed his arm. "Don't take Jed to see Leticia," he said. "Let him talk to Jovanna, see if anyone been asking about...me. Find out what you can with your crew, if you want. Just...keep my kid safe... and..." His face grew dark and serious. "...keep him away from anyone who's MK direct."

R.J. agreed, "Yeah...I promise that." He then wandered into the kitchen, seeking a beer, a sip of scotch, anything to get him away from the nightmare of Todd and Tea, and their impossible attachment.

Tea watched her husband on the couch. Caught his cool gaze. "Where are the kids?" he asked. "Where did you put my Lucia?"

"With Viki," Tea said. "Where else would I leave them?"

Todd returned to the game, his voice sinking into a soft patter. "I don't know," he said, "...I don't know anything right now." He studied the moves of the players on the screen...or so it seemed.

Tea tried not to be angry at him; to be angry runs counter to the rules against codependency. To be angry is an effort to change or control the addict, the addiction itself. And THAT is something nobody can do. She hadn't meant to slap him - she seemed to have a problem with that when it came to him. When he hurt her in a way that cut into her soul, she became physical. Twice in two days, she'd hit him with the most unbelievable anger. God...

So inadequate.

She shut her eyes and breathed and when she opened them, she found herself staring at his wrists, the wounds now so obvious to her. How could she miss them? Seeing the reddish spots now, her guilt spread like black ink. She thought through every contact with him, every breakfast, lunch, dinner...the showers together, their lovemaking? He had hid those marks, he had hid his heroin use and his involvement with MK...and she chose not to see any of it. Ignored all the symptoms and signs. Sleepiness, absence, secretiveness.

Quietly, she asked, "Where else do you burn yourself?"

He shook his head, shrugged. "Any place it hurts."

He'd been so good at hiding the insanity; she was good at letting him playact. In fact, she now understood exactly why she'd not been able to see his continuing hurts for the past three years. Instead of a cloak of pain, Todd now wore a constantly changing suit of armor. Cool, calm, collected. He was who he needed to be as each situation arose. Father? He was happy and loving. Husband or brother, he was sure and constant. The newspaper owner, powerful and smart. In the past few days she also learned that when he needed to be, he was gangster, a madman that could tear people apart. And so on and so forth. She thought it was a convict's sheen...a shield of suspicion, care, an ever-present threat of violence, but no...no... it went much farther than that.

Todd had become the most amazing chameleon, thick skin and all.

He remained quiet on the couch, his eyes on the TV still, his face completely inexpressive. He'd crossed his arms again on his head, as if he was protecting himself. With his fingers, he pulled the cuffs of the hoodie up into his fists. Like he was cold, covering up the marks. The light of the muted TV flashed colors on his light skin. He was so far away, so alone. And she could not bear it.

She got up and walked to him. Stood over him, his eyes on her now. She straddled him, one leg at a time. She wrapped her arms around him. His arms settled on her waist. She buried her head in his neck. She felt him bend his head a little to hers. To get closer to her.

"Please don't give up," she said. "Please...please don't."

"I'm not," he said.

She breathed in his scent, musky, sweet, soapy. The roots of his hair were still wet from his shower. "Yes," she whispered, "I know you. I can feel you letting go, disappearing. You are not an apparition...you being gone would be much more than...just being gone."

"I know..." he said, his voice cracking at the end there.

Their bodies fit well together, like they were one being. How could she not know what was in his head all this time? Tea caressed his face, the back of his neck. A kind of truce. A cease-fire. She needed him to stay here, for Lucia, for Reese and Jed and Starr. "What does it do...why do you hurt yourself like that?"

"I can't explain it." He whispered the words to her. She was talking too loudly...what he did was secret. And here she was, spitting secrets into the ozone. "Don't wanna talk about it."

"Please?" She sat up and looked into his eyes. "Try me. I don't understand it."

He looked around for prying eyes, ears. Returned her gaze, pain inching into the green, the blues, the browns. His voice once again, quiet, subdued. "For a moment, everything disappears. All I feel is the physical pain. It's...relieving."

Tea tightened her hold on him and he breathed out, the emotional strain obvious. She sighed against his cool skin.

"We love you," she said. "I love you. Please don't forget that... even if I'm not with you."

Wrong words...and Tea knew it as soon as they rolled off her tongue. His whole body reacted. A major hit. Just like earlier, just like the morning. She immediately tried to restate, reformulate... "I mean-"

"Feeling you isn't enough," he spat, a mix of anger and hurt washing across his features. "I tried for five years to feel you even though you weren't with me...and all I got out of it was fucking heroin, and YOU fucking R.J. Gannon."

He hated his own words and his mouth twisted like he tasted something disgusting. "I'm sorry..." he growled. He pushed her away and got up, stood over her. Tension running through every muscle. "I'm sorry. Look, I'm not going to kill myself, okay? You're not going to find me _hanging_ anywhere."

Tea rubbed her face, knowing they'd reverted quickly to opposing positions...so fast. She looked up at him, as he started pacing in front of her, muttering about R.J. He was so angry about it, something he'd been living with for a long time... which made HER angry.

"I don't get you. How can you use R.J. against me when you see WHORES? NOW."

He gritted his teeth, glared at her, hissed, "Well, maybe if you didn't get with him while I was LOCKED UP, I wouldn't feel so fuckin' justified at using them."

Tea tightened her hands into fists, breathing in hard, "Tell me you're going to start treatment tomorrow. TELL ME!"

He saw that Jedediah was standing on the stairs, listening. R.J. stood in the kitchen doorway, a dark look on his face. So ready to take care of business. Everyone was looking at him and he could hear his own breath sawing in and out of tight lungs, fear crashing his brain, drying his mouth. They were cornering him, trapping him. He was in control of his own life, not them. How dare any of them tell him what he needed.

_Fuck them._

Tea had crossed her arms, sat straight up. He could see she didn't understand him. She judged him. He could see it in her fiery eyes, in the tightness of her jaw. All she needed were those black robes. She asked, "Right? Tomorrow?"

"I'm not an addict," he said, a hand running through his hair, sweat springing all over him. Yeah, yeah...that's right. Every so often does not an addict make.

R.J. cursed loudly, Tea breathing out a hard breath, Todd snapping back at R.J... "Fuck you, too, Gannon! I don't owe YOU anything, bitch! Not that any of this is your goddamn business! Why are you even here? Hoping that I'm dead...hoping so you can take her back?"

"That's right, asshole."

R.J. started to come over, to tell Todd exactly why it was his business, but Tea put her hand up to stop him in his tracks. He stopped cold. She turned to Todd...her voice was hard, accusatory, "You're not an addict? Are you really contending-"

"I'm 'contending' nothing, _Counselor_. I'm not addicted...I use... sometimes. FUCK!"

Jedediah made his way towards his father. "Pops...Tea...come on..."

"Fine, you want to play lawyer," Tea shot back, the dialogue completely devolving. "You want to play the semantics game...fine. I'll restate the question...are you going to stop _using_ heroin?"

Right there in the open, he seemed to shrug on a new suit of armor...he put his head back, bent and shut the TV off. He turned to her, his eyes cold, his face...calm. He sniffed, he lost all the... _wounded-ness_. Made her sorry that she had felt anything for him.

"No," he said, his tone arrogant, sarcastic. "I'm not gonna give it up."

"NO? You got high today with your daughter in your arms! Jesus! You had drugs in our HOUSE! What if the kids found it? Reese? He's a baby..." Tea had gotten to her feet now, furious.

Todd got real close to her, "What are you going to do about it, Tea? Leave me? Get a restraining order? Take away my kids? Go fuck someone else? Or maybe kill me. Yeah, maybe THAT's what you should do...take R.J.'s gun, and FUCKING KILL ME! DO IT! DO IT, TEA!"

Tea crumpled into herself at the crazy aimed at her once again, sitting again, shaking her head at their amazing jump from love to mind-numbing out-of-control-ness. Jedediah stepped hard in front of Todd, grabbing his shoulders, holding back that iron-strength away from Tea, "Dad! Cool it!"

Todd breathed in through his nose, his mouth pressed into an ugly slash of hate, looking into those intensely serious eyes of his son. He raised his hand and placed it on the Jed's chest. Ready to shove the hell out of him. Instead, he worked at calming himself down, Jedediah saying, "You good? Okay?"

His father didn't respond, just kept his eyes on Tea now, the two locked in a silent war.

"Dad...look at me. Right here...listen to me." Todd directed his gaze back to his kid. "She loves you, okay? We all do. We just want you well."

R.J. chimed in, "Speak for yourself, Jed."

"Gannon, shut the fuck up!" Jedediah's voice was tough, surprisingly so.

Todd wandered away, collapsed on the bottom steps. R.J. wanted to clock Todd, but he didn't for Tea's sake. He watched her get composed. Cleared his throat. Not sure this was the night for investigating anything. R.J. stepped over to Tea, "What do you want to do. Stay here? What? I'll take you wherever you want to go."

"I'm fine," she said. "You do what you have to do."

Jedediah knelt, got into Todd's face, "I promised Tim I'd stay with you. To make sure you don't get near dope. I thought it would be all right, that you could...maintain while I go check shit out with R.J. But I was wrong."

Todd sniffed noisily, wetly, into his throat. Some of that long greying hair was in his face, having come out of the band holding it back, and he looked fit to be tied. Unfit...to be left alone. He fiddled with the shredded cuffs of his jeans. "I'm fine," he hissed.

"Can I leave you alone with TEA?" Jed was harsh in his tone. "Can I trust that you're not going to run outta here, chasing Leticia...heroin...whatever? Can I trust you aren't going to hurt anyone?"

A choked laugh came from Todd, sorta knocking Jed back. Todd grabbed Jed by his shoulder, held him tight. "You can't control me, Jedediah Chant. Nothing you do...will stop me from doing what I want to do. If you're here, not here, with me, not with me. This is about you. What do you want?"

The two men stared at each other. Todd loosened his grip, the touch turning into a caress of his son's head.

"I want to ask questions," Jed finally said. "Tonight. While it's still hot out there."

"Then go. What I do, or don't do, is not your problem. You want to solve a crime...go solve it. I will not _injure_ Tea, if that's what you're thinking. Ever. No matter what Gannon thinks. No matter what...I look like."

"Or say?"

"Or say."

Jedediah stood up after some moments. "All right. I'm gonna go."

"Stay away from MK, Jed," was all he said. "I mean it."

"Okay...okay."

After some more basic chit-chat with the Tea, R.J. and Jed split. R.J. wanted to take Tea with him, but she refused and there was no moving her. Todd disappeared upstairs. The front door opened, and then shut. The silence of Penthouse overwhelmed Tea. She sat a while, then got to her feet. The place needed tidying up. She needed a distraction. Badly. Nothing better than a little organization. She got a trash bag and began shoving crap into it. Got spray...began cleaning. Spray...spray...spray. The smell of cleanser replaced the slightly musty smell.

Brandy used to do this. Clean things to the bare bones. Bleach everything out. That poor woman could never clean anything enough...she could not wash away the stench of her life, of her history.

And now, neither could Tea.

Todd re-emerged from the bedrooms, stepped a few steps down, changed. He had his own boots on, but black jeans that belonged to Jed, a tight black t-shirt, and an expensive as hell hoodie. Unzipped. The jeans had holes and age beaten into the cloth until they were threadbare. Jed and Todd were the kings of false poverty. His sinewy body showed through it all. His pulled-back hair showed the hardness of his face, the lack of love. Tea swallowed, looked up at him. Her eyes full of judgment.

"Who are you supposed to be tonight?" she asked.

"A monster."

"And me?"

"The monster's mistress."

"Really."

"Yeah, you're coming with me to see Leticia."

"I am not! You're in no condition to go anywhere!"

"Then fine, I'll see her alone."

"You're not going anywhere."

He stood in front of her, his eyes moving around the features of her face. He said in a low, quiet, serious tone. "I promised Jedediah that I'd never hurt you. Please don't make me break my promise. Either you come with me, or I go alone...I'll go right through you, girl."

* * *

><p>Leticia Flores immediately felt a thrill run through her, a frisson of recalled heat, when she saw who was on her cell. <em>El Diablo Blanco.<em> He wanted to meet her. She was at home tonight...he wanted to see her at her modest apartment. She entertained here sometimes, for special, trusted men. _Blanco_ was a trusted customer. Relatively.

Even though she knew his real name...Todd Manning... she didn't know much more than he was married, had money, and had been in prison for rape among other unsavory crimes. Not to mention the hell's rain he managed to yank out of the skies while in Statesville. And...he ran a newspaper. This all meant a couple of things. He knew a lot of shit about people, and he didn't have much of a conscience.

They had a relationship because Leticia was a whore to the MKs. But not just that. She knew shit, knew where to get shit, and she didn't have much of a conscience either. She and _Blanco_ seemed to "get" each other.

Leticia was officially a waitress...she doled out drinks, and the occasional lap dance and fuck. She got paid well for what she did... she could roll her hips on a man's clothed cock so precisely, so slowly, using her whole body, and with just that, she could make them come hard. She knew how to make a man feel extra good with the use of her tongue, lips, hands, and her pussy. They liked her because she acted like she enjoyed what she was doing to them. She said the right things, she didn't judge their...particular tastes. She let them go far with her, but not too far. She also didn't mind girlfriends joining in the action. She made the women feel just as good as their men. Make the girlfriend or wife come and the girlfriend or wife won't mind the man getting off either.

The first time she "met" Todd had been nearly three years ago at the Havana Cafe. She was serving drinks and food to the MK men in the back room when he walked in the door. One look at him and she sucked in air. _Dios mio, _he was...beautiful, powerful. One of the other waitresses once called him a panther...and she agreed. The slight limp, the slow approach. That green-eyed stare. He was scarred like the others, inked like the others, but in those eyes, by the cool deference to him by all the men in the room that night, she could see he was far more dangerous than anybody in MK that she knew.

The waitresses had a joke about him - Selena told it in her heavy New York accent.

"If you find him staring at you, there are two things that are goin' on...he's either gonna _fuck_ you up and you bettah run like hell...or he's going to _fuck you_ and you bettah hold on like hell!"

She saw immediately that he had the ear of the MK leader. He spoke little but what he said tended to get Pedro's attention, and keep it. He didn't look at her like the other men did... practically ignoring her. He didn't look at any of the girls with any interest. He'd watch her give her infamous lap dances, but he wouldn't laugh or cheer like the others when the recipient jerked a climax despite the work not to let it happen.

He wore a wedding ring. It was obvious he wasn't Cuban. His Spanish sucked, he liked to eat mostly chicken or straight-up steak, and drink Jack Daniels. He avoided the Cuban staple, rum. While she'd danced with every man in the room, _Blanco_ always turned her down for a dance. The men didn't tease him...they knew better, as he'd proven more than once. She'd seen him drop a man so hard, it took her breath away. Selena's joke was obviously a fairy tale. This man fucked nobody, other than maybe his enemies.

After several months or so, her curious smiles at him were finally getting him to lock eyes with her. He noticed her. She hadn't been sure if that was good, or bad. One late night, he stayed behind, sucking down a bottle of Jack's. When she came in the room to clean up, he got up. Made a bee-line for her. Cornered her. She was up against the wall, and he had his hand above her. She touched his chest and it was hard, hard, hard. Way too close to his prison life. He was drunk. Smelled of whiskey. His voice was smooth and slow and sexy. He asked a question...but there was no lilt, there was no upturn at the end of his sentence.

"What you got in that little pocket o' yours..."

"What you want, _Blanco?_ I got it all."

He looked around, the room a mess of glasses and food. Salsa music playing in the background, her heart thumping just as loud. She had no idea what his...tastes...extended to and she was definitely curious. Olivia, another waitress, came in and he growled at her to get out and Olivia disappeared...

Leticia got her defenses up, took a hard breath. Laid out a basic rule, "I know _karate, Blanco..._if you're into rough stuff...I have my lines." He said nothing. Just watched her. She felt compelled to be clear. "No bruises, no blood. My safe word is '_arbol._'"

Slowly, deliberately, he mimicked her, "_Arbol_. Hmmm." His gaze at her was deep, serious. He finally said what he wanted. "Smack...you got that."

She had smiled because he just didn't seem like the type. He rarely strayed from Jack, and that ring seemed fat and thick. One time he didn't wear it...and lo and behold, a tattooed band was there. The message was clear. She figured the powder would end their tango.

Reaching into her apron pocket, she pulled out a small bag of white, powdery heroin. "It's real good," she said, "real pure. MK quality." His eyes fell from her...to the powder. He cracked a crooked smile and looked back at her. Nodded his head. She said it was free for him... he reached into his own pocket and took out a wad of cash anyway.

"Spill it on your palm," he cooed and she did. He looked at it, and held her palm to his face, licking a bit of the white, tasting it. He stuffed the cash into her pocket.

He then took her hand and snorted the dust, carefully, delicately...well familiar with the process. He rubbed his nose, sniffing, smiling a little, humored at the silliness. And she watched him. He gazed back at her, at her face, looking at her body.

"You like what you see, _Blanco_?"

He didn't say much, dragging his eyes back to hers. He didn't let go of her... and she leaned back against the wall. "You want something else?"

"Yeah."

"You wanna dance?"

Shook his head and took her hand, kissing it. His quiet made her crazy. "Tell me...I can't do nothin' unless I know-"

"Shut up," he murmured, barely heard over the music. He'd put his hand on her lips, his thumb rubbing her cheek.

She had no choice but to shut her mouth, breathing in calm. He was a touchy one. He had rules. She just didn't know what they were yet. He turned and grabbed her hand hard, pulling her out of the room, passing Olivia who'd gotten a look of fear, surprise, on her face. He dragged Leticia outside into the cold air and pulled out his keys and headed to his nice sports car that she knew was a Porsche. He opened one door, tucked her into the passenger seat and got into the front.

He sat quietly a moment or two, like he was waiting for something. Then he reached for her hand, and simply watched her. Kissed her palm and then slowly moved her hand down, down his chest, finally pressed it to his crotch. He studied her and she ran her hands up and down his hardness... she knew this. This...she knew well.

When she started to unbutton him, he stopped her. As if he was reconsidering. She said, "I know what you want...I get it. I bet you look real good under those buttons." He'd looked at her, in a funny way. Sad. But then the heroin began to take effect and he dropped his head forward a little, his mouth parting, eyelids drooping...beautiful, gentle. She could see a real vulnerability to him, a true sadness in him. But then...most men got vulnerable with a whore, with heroin running through their bodies and brain.

She leaned across the divide and placed her mouth on his and he responded a little, his tongue barely touching hers. He unbuttoned, lazily. Put her hand back on him, put his head back, his eyes open, roving the roof, the windows, her. Then those eyes shut. She did her thing. Slow and easy, wetting her hand with her spit. He didn't hurry her, so clearly he liked it that way.

When she bent to put her mouth on him, he reacted harshly, grabbing her long black hair, pulling her head up to his face, "Just your hand...that's all." All that sadness and vulnerability had disappeared.

She got the picture and stuck to it. She was nervous...he would hurt her. She knew, deep inside, that if push came to shove, this one would have no hesitation about hurting her. He moved her hand quicker towards the end and was quiet when he finished, the only sound a soft grunt, the only movements his tight hold of her hair and the jerking of his hips. He relaxed...still breathing hard as she cleaned up. He fixed those buttons.

"Get the fuck out."

No cuddling for this one.

As she walked back, rubbing her head, she noticed that he didn't drive anywhere. It was a while before his car disappeared. After that...he became a regular. The longest separation had been two months. It happened every so often...a separation. But then he'd stalk the room, stalk whatever club she was in, come find her. Their dance was mostly the same...with a few more intimacies thrown in, or fewer, depending on his mood. All men have their tastes. They didn't talk much that first year...

Until she told him about another customer who'd threatened her - she was truly afraid - he wasn't MK. That's when he learned the things she knew. That's when their conversations increased and he paid her for more than the dope and the dance.

The guy who threatened her? Found dead in an alley...never to bother her or anyone else again.

Leticia looked around her low-lit place, feeling the warmth... hearing a soft tap on the door.

_Blanco_ had arrived.

* * *

><p>Tea had stepped aside, and watched him walk right out the Penthouse door. Then she grabbed her purse, headed to the elevator and into the parking level. Right in time to see him turn the corner, his headlights right in her face. He'd stopped the car, his own basic Ford truck that he kept at the Penthouse.<p>

"You coming? Or you just gonna follow me."

She got to the passenger door and climbed in, wondering if he was dragging her into his hell. Like before, like with Brandy. They didn't say a word as they wound their way through Llanview roads until they made it across the river. Headed into the low-rent district near the industrial zone of Llantano county.

The door to Leticia's apartment opened slowly and Todd smiled at her, just a small lift of a corner of his mouth. The woman didn't see Tea, but Tea could see her. Same waitress from the underground club. Pretty, sexy, a face that was a window into her soul. Tea could see a kind of love there, a willingness to do anything. The girl grinned back, raised her eyebrows. "What you doin' here, _Blanco?_"

Todd moved and showed off his Tea.

Tea just eyed the woman. The initial openness disappeared and Leticia went to work. She grinned, and bowed her head to Tea. She opened the door all the way.

"Come on in, welcome."

The two walked in and the door shut behind them. Tea saw that this was much better than Brandy's place. The girl had dug in here, kept a warm home. Ready for business though. Comfortable pillows on the soft couch, mood lighting, a kitchen that wasn't overpowering, but looked like you could cook there. There was music on, quiet jazz. Something that might appeal to a variety of people. The place wasn't cold nor was it warm. A bedroom door was open. A typical red light was in there, the bed waiting just inside. There was another door down that little hall. The door was shut.

Leticia wore a slinky, silky dress. Nothing underneath most likely. Showing off all her curves.

Todd made his way to the couch, falling into it. Leticia didn't talk, didn't ask, just giving him an already-prepared glass of scotch. He drank it slowly, nursed it.

"My name's Leticia," she said to Tea. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you," Tea said.

"You want something to drink? What do you like?"

"Nothing, thank you." Tea paused, seeing Todd still nursing that Jack. Just as Tea was about to ask something, Todd looked at her, quieting her.

"Come here, Leticia, sit with me. Tea..." He pointed to a place across from him, a couple of feet away. Tea did it. She chose to not engage him here. He had a plan. She hoped. Bottom line, this was his world, not hers.

Leticia sat next to him, closely, intimately. He lifted his arm so she could get closer, and he put his hand on her ass. Tea bit down and tried to look unconcerned. Todd glanced quickly at her, but his expression remained cool. Tea, though, thought she saw something in his eyes...a simmering. A bit...of that hate. He redirected an intense gaze at Leticia. The whore was waiting for him. She wasn't going to offer anything, or suggest anything, or get pushy. She smiled gently at Tea, clearly unsure of the strange woman's role in Todd's visit. Obviously a third party was highly unusual for... _Blanco._ Leticia caressed Todd's hair, his face, his chest. Waiting.

Todd breathed in, closing his eyes at Leticia's touches. Then he looked at Tea and said, "This is my wife, Leticia. She is a bit...upset at my friendship with you."

A sad expression crossed Leticia's face, one of understanding. "I'm sorry," she said. "You want to say something to me? I wouldn't blame you." She tried to move away from Todd, but he held fast to her body. Her eyebrows quirked at her inability to move. Tea now knew that he was not being affectionate with her. He'd decided against playing nice.

"No," Tea said. "My words are with him. Just him."

Leticia then looked at Todd, now questioning him. "What do you want, _Blanco?_ Tonight."

"I want to know how loyal you are to me."

She glanced back between Tea and him. Unsure. She tried again to get space between herself and Todd but he bit down and yanked her hard into him, making her draw a hard breath. "I don't have a lot of patience tonight. How loyal are you. To me."

"Loyal...always," she said, her voice now lacking confidence. Her voice shook, her body on the defense. Todd had her tight against him, his hand now on her throat.

"Who has been asking about me? My drug use." Her head tipped back, as Todd brought her closer to him. "Tell me."

The girl squeezed shut her eyes, and Tea knew right away the girl had information. "I can't," she said. Todd threw her hard against the cushions and Leticia now was fully afraid. Tea was afraid, too. She wasn't going to sit by while her out-of-control husband beat the crap out of this woman. No chance. No matter who she was. Leticia looked at Tea, confused. Todd got to his knees, climbing on top of Leticia, his hand again around her throat.

"Todd!"

Todd turned to her, "Stay out of this!" Turning back to a squirming Leticia, he hissed, "I know who is in that bedroom, and I can make things happen to her. Things you don't want to have happen. _Entiendes, preciosa_?"

Leticia's eyes welled, tears rolling down her cheeks, and she shook her head, "_Blanco..._come on... don't say that, _por favor_."

Tea got to her feet and walked to the closed bedroom, opened it, and saw a little girl asleep in a bed, two, three years old. Jesus. Christ. The baby stays in the house while Leticia whores herself out. Child Protective Services would take that baby away so fast Leticia's head would spin.

"WHO WAS ASKING ABOUT ME!"

Leticia now cried openly, "He's the father of my baby...please... he helps me... please..."

"Talk, Leticia, or so fuckin' help me..."

"No...I can't...I can't..." She shook her head, and Tea turned just as Todd was reaching back to hit her. Tea screamed, sprinted to him, grabbing at his wrist. "NO! Don't you dare touch her! Jesus!"

He tightened his hand into a fist, breathing hard, looking at Tea, looking like he could hit HER. Tea made her own appeal, never letting go of Todd's hard glare. "Leticia," she said, "tell him what he wants to know. At some point, I won't be able to stop him from hurting you."

Leticia cried pitifully, weakly. Tea finally let go of Todd who kept up the physical pressure on Leticia nevertheless. Leticia finally 'fessed up, saying at last, "Rolon Lopez. He's been asking about you. He's the only one who's been so...curious."

Todd went white. Dropped Leticia. Scooted away from her. His mouth was parted in surprise, shock. "Rolon. Ex-con Rolon, Rolon...my friend."

She nodded. "Yes."

"What's he been so curious about," he asked.

"What you said. The smack. He took some. He wanted a needle, but I didn't have one."

"No," he said.

Leticia went close to him, petting him, kissing him, all so sickeningly. "Please... he supports me. Please. I'm yours, Blanco...I'll do anything you want...I always have! Anything...just don't touch Rolon, please..."

"Don't say anything to him," Todd growled. "I meant what I said, Leticia. I will make things happen to your Rose. Fucking...ugly.._.things._"

"No!"

"YES."

He got up and nodded to Tea, "Let's go." Todd swung open the front door, pushing Leticia away.

Tea stopped at Leticia who kept begging, crying, terrified. "Leticia, listen to me. Okay, listen. You need to get yourself together and act no differently than you normally do. If you talk, CPS will be here to take her away. You have no chance against them. Once she's in the system, you will lose Rose forever because of what you do. Please take care of this how he wants. Protect your daughter. Say nothing to anyone about tonight. Promise me that!"

The girl nodded, melting into a heap on the floor, wrecked by Todd, the White Devil. No goddamn doubt.

Todd walked back once Tea stepped outside the apartment and slammed the apartment door closed. Stormed down the hallway again, Tea having to run to keep up with him. "What now? What the hell are you doing now?" She called. The hallway was dark and the stairwell darker. He looked up at her, the dim light from way above shining down on him.

"I got no choice," he said. "I have to kill him."

The night had chilled. He was a monster. He operated outside everything Tea knew. "What did you mean about Rose? You were talking about Child Protective Services, right? Taking her away?"

He eyed her, "No, Delgado, sweet, innocent Delgado. CPS would be a salvation in comparison to what I can have done to little, tender... Rose."

The world just kept offering up its best to Tea.

"Now get in the goddamn car."

**To be continued...**


	17. Chapter 17

**Caged** **Chapter 17**

_It was a hot, gloomy June day that Jed attempted his second visit to Statesville Prison. That morning, three-year-old Lucia had gotten ill, Tea learned she had lost a major case, Starr informed the family she was moving to Africa, and Jedediah...well, he decided to skip the formal graduation from Llanview University. Who needed the stupid walk in the football field? Instead, while all his classmates donned mortar boards and gowns and marched to the traditional Pomp and Circumstance, Jedediah hopped on his motorcycle all the way out to Statesville. He needed to see his father. Just wanted to be in his crazy, fucked-up space. He hoped he'd be permitted._

_The prison had tall walls, electrified barbed-wire across the tops, guards with guns at six corners, and an overall sense of foreboding. The walk into the place was enough to scare any hard-core teen into being straight. Jed was seriously frisked, sniffed, and searched, and sent to wait in the visitors room. He waited and waited._

_Finally, he looked up and there was Todd. Walking that walk, swinging that hair, and carrying that imaginary machete. He wore a real "fuck you" glare and new prison tats...but above all...he gave off an overall aura of fierceness that had the other visitors AND cons shrinking like a bunch of __morning glories__ at sunset._

_Holy shit...was all Jed could think._

_Todd plopped down and growled, "The fuck are you doing here? Ain't you s'posed to be graduating today?"_

"_Chose not to, Pops. Diploma'ill still come whether I'm there or not. Bigger question is..." Jed got a little low, spoke a little quiet-like, "what the fuck are YOU doing that's got you looking like you're gonna kill someone any fuckin' minute?"_

_Shocking Jed, Todd laughed out loud, a real laugh, one that ended with a sniff and a trace of love in his hazel, hardened eyes. He shook his head, and took the kid's hand in his. He actually lifted the kid's hand to his mouth and kissed it. Jed pulled back that hand...sighing with resignation. He really wanted an answer. Todd deflected._

"_How's things with R.J.?"_

"_Good. Flying quite a bit these days...got into some dicey shit in Mexico though."_

_Todd bit down hard, resenting R.J., "Like what."_

"_Landed in an airport that was...um...run by some drug cartel." He laughed a little, "Do you know what it's like to outfly machine gun bullets?" Before Todd could spit nails, Jed laughed some more, "Pops...it was awesome! Best day of my life."_

"_I'm sure it was...can you just avoid Mexico for a while?"_

"_No, no, just have to follow a few guidelines. We got it down, now...what airports to avoid and shit like that. Really, it's perfectly safe. Spent a weekend in Cozumel that was... AWESOME."_

_Todd smiled finally, more of a reluctant grin. That was when something caught __Todd's__ eye. The slightest shift in his features made__Jed turn around__but Todd grabbed him by the hair, ever so gently__ saying, __"Just look at me__.__"__ Flashed a small smile at his son._

"_Okay, okay...sorry."_

_Their chat continued, but Todd then __grew__ distracted, his gaze __increasingly __moving beyond Jed, the conversation becoming one-sided. His mouth got tight. A frustration of some sort. A breathed curse._

_All of a sudden, the alarms went off like crazy and visitor's hours were killed. Todd had looked at Jed apologetically, just as a guard came on him, yanking an amazingly resistant Todd to his feet, then bashing him with a baton to get on his stomach, hands and legs apart. Jed jumped back, watching what was obviously a prison arrest of his father, and a rather brutal one at that. Jed wanted to intervene but Todd's fury said...to just get the fuck out._

"_Go on home," one of the guards urged, pushing Jed to the door. The other inmates had been moved, too, visitors told to leave._

_T__he whole thing rattled the hell out of Jed. __When __he__ got home, he hit R.J. up on what the hell was going on with his father. R.J. started asking questions, did some digging, and finally asked Jed to come over to the bar for a convo with a just-released Statesville con...a Jamaican named Odell._

_After the requisite round of drinks, they got down to business._

"_You askin' me about Manning, Mister Gannon?" The lively, dreadlock-wearing, baby-faced ex-convict smiled big. "He a friend of mine, as much a friend as one can have behind dem bars. We have fun together! As much fun as one can have...behind dem bars."_

_Odell's expression saddened, though. "He in a tough bind, mon. Da past t'ree years have been fuckin' hell on him because he came in a sex offender. And dat...is very low. Everyone wants to get him. __He got no choice but to fight hard. A__fter so long of fightin' by himself, after a long time of provin' himself to be tough enough..."_

_He looked at Jed. Sighed real sadly. "You his boy, I can see it. I'm real sorry 'bout dat."_

"_Why you saying that?" The strong sentiment hit Jed hard._

"_Cuz your father, he got hooked up with da MK gang to save his fuckin' life, to save da lives of the boys he protectin'."_

_Jed piped up, "MK?"_

_R.J. cursed, "Fuckin' Mambo Kings. MotherFUCK."_

"_That bad?" Jed looked so worried but R.J. couldn't relieve the pain._

"_Yeah, Jed, it's bad. Real...bad__.__"_

_Jed had turned back and forth between the two...asking wordlessly how it could be changed, how...how..._

_Odell shook his head, __l__ooked at Jedediah, threw the signs of MK, "'MK for fuckin' life.' Dat's what dey say. Dat's the truth. You don't get ever get out of MK, you get your ass KILLED out."_

"_No...he'd never do that...he'd never get involved with a group like that. He wouldn't!" R.J. reached and touched Jed. _

"_Ya...I'm real sorry about dat," Odell said, taking in the ambiance of R.J.'s bar, sipping his drink, sighing. R.J. followed in suit. Odell then eyed Jed, got visibly sad. "Your father...he lost his soul in dat place, in prison, and that empty space made room for MK. He ain't gettin' dat soul back, child. No, no...no chance a dat." _

_Jed had turned to R.J., tears in his eyes. "I want to help him, I have to help him__.__"_

_The two men, Odell and R.J. could only get a little sadder at Jed's loss and pain. R.J. laid it out. "There isn't any helping, __kid__. It__'s over.__"_

"_What about all of you? The Posse...come on!" The tears had dried and now he was just p__issed off. There was NO WAY that his father was out of luck. No way. There had to be an angle, Todd planned something. This wasn't happening._

_Odell chuckled, "Oh we been doin' our best for him, cuz...like I said, he been a real good friend." The laughter stopped, though. "But it ain't enough." Odell then did get a look of hope on his face, "Well, maybe der is somet'ing. Maybe, you and Gannon can help him out in his business." He looked directly at Jed. "I got information that can't come from us, maybe you can tell him, young son."_

_R.J. shook his head, "Hell fuckin' no. That sonofabitch isn't gonna drag Jed into his everlasting hopeless shit." But Jed...he caught Odell's eye. Bit down on his teeth. Growled at R.J., "You don't run my life." Turned to Odell, "Lemme do it. If it'll help him. Let me do it. Whatever it takes."_

_Yeah, monsters can make such fucking ugly things happen to __precious children._

* * *

><p>Henry Jones reviewed the current Todd ManningHorenda murder book, looking across the room at a serious Bo Buchanan talking to Warden Dixon of Statesville in his office. His shades were open and Henry could see them through the window. They were pretty intense. Henry sat back in his rocking wooden seat that had held a lot cops over the years. The problem with connecting Todd to Mambo Kings, and MK to Horenda, was that now not only would the Serranos be fighting the Irish, but they'd be fighting MK, too. The gang war would only double. Strategy says...drop the case, work on a truce.

Henry hated when he stumbled across the opposition's negotiating points. Yeah, yeah, he should know them so he could counter them, but in this case, there really wasn't much countering if Todd was inextricably tied to MK. If he was, there was no way that he was a lone assailant and there was no way they could go public with the killing. Not if they were after fewer innocents getting killed.

And what about Manning's family, might they be targets of Los Serranos in further retaliation? The family would have to separate from Manning himself. The wife, the kids. Of course, something like that was already happening. The surveillance team showed the Mannings at serious odds for an unknown reason. Todd was at their home, but Tea was at her sister-in-law's house with the kids. Yeah, the stress was beginning to show.

The family was cracking.

Henry went back to his study of Todd's alibi witnesses. They were... strangely, predictably... airtight except for Brayden. The witnesses to the witnesses were fairly airtight, too, having seen all the kids on the basketball court, corroborating their story. Though they didn't see Manning on the court, they weren't firm on that point. So Manning very well could have been right where he said he was when Horenda was killed...right on that basketball court. Watching that game. Then the forensics came in - very clean - Irish, Irish, Irish. Not only that, the place was deeply contaminated. The hallway where Horenda was killed was a heavily used traffic point. Too much evidence to be useful.

Forensics did provide an unexplained curiosity - Horenda's nipple had been removed. Cut out. Nobody could tie that little twist to anything. Wasn't Irish, Cuban, nothing. Henry wrote up a "to-do" note... cross-reference any other killings in Statesville that had a similar tag.

Now, Brayden...the one guy saying Manning wasn't on the court at all, he hated Manning with the fire of a thousand suns. Manning had been a real jerk to him in Statesville, "jerk" being the understatement of the year. But Henry didn't buy that Todd raped the kid. Todd's record was much too clean in Statesville in that regard. There would have been something other than gossip. Medical reports, for instance, on victims. Although... gossip tends to be a case of where there's smoke, there's fire. On the other hand, Warden Dixon had disregarded it as a possibility.

"That was not what he was doing despite his reputation, his...mmmm...outwardly behavior," she had said earlier to Henry. "I spoke to three workers of his on their exit interviews and all of them swore that Manning never touched them, and that in fact, Manning protected them from any further assaults by maintaining these kids as his property. They swear it up and down. They had a kind of devotion to him that was pretty powerful. Brayden is an exception."

Inside Bo's closed office, Bo continued the conversation. "So you don't believe Armstrong?"

"No, he doesn't fit Manning's interest in kids for one thing. Let's just assume for argument's sake that Manning was an active sexual predator in Statesville. Based on his workers, it would appear that he had very specific...mmmm... _taste._ The kids he was after tended to be the most vulnerable, the most damaged, the 'whores.' He was also after scrappy kids. The ones who could probably fight, but didn't quite get enough leverage to fight off assaults."

"I don't understand that last point..."

Shondra looked around the room for better words, "Mmmm...take Ty Jerome and Royce Jimenez. These were pretty-faced young men; they were small, tough little things...but not enough to fend off attackers. Not enough skill. Todd liked those kids because they could navigate Todd's...mmm...system in Statesville without getting too badly hurt."

"What system?"

"Oh...Todd was in the business of..." She smiled, "What does he do for a living? Today."

"Newspaper."

"Well, he did that in Statesville, too. He was in the information business. More like...mmm...the classifieds. Whatever you needed as an inmate, he knew how to get it. Anything. I learned this in his last few months. I know a lot about Manning."

"Really...why? How?"

"He was very unusual...his power, his ability to survive on his own without any formal ties to gangs. The fact that he managed to interact with many races. He was an unlikely person to have such a place in Statesville, especially being a sex offender, not being particularly large or bulky. History and statistics say he should have been picked off pretty early. _But he wasn't._ He... made an impression on me the first time I met him. I made it a mission to learn about him before he was released."

Bo crossed his arms, laying a finger on his lips, keeping mum on Todd's MK affiliation. "Hm. Okay...so he was in the info business. I can see scrappy. Those kids delivered the 'news.'"

"Right."

"What about the whores? What use?"

"Yes." She sighed, "Like Diego Loriz, Kenny McNair, Tomas Flora, and...what was the other one...oh yes, Joe Rodriguez...some others I don't remember. They were gatherers supposedly. What he explained to me was that they were small, unassuming, delicate creatures. They tended to not be seen once they weren't _available_ to other inmates, so they heard things. They repeated things to Manning. They did actual work in the library for him. It was safer - he didn't like the whores being away from him."

Bo snorted, "Come on, Dixon. That's predator behavior. He was obviously using these whores for sex."

"Not that I know of, Bo, not that I could gather, no. I mean, sure, the world is a bit upside down in prison. Men act in ways one might not expect, there. But no, he used them for work."

He eyed the Warden. "Is there any connection between Horenda...and Todd's workers? That you know of."

She shook her head, "Well, as you've seen, Horenda's record is thick with complaints. Lots of solitary for sexual activity. The guy was pretty open because he had the Serranos on his side. Long rap sheet of violent sexual crimes against underage boys, lots of gossip, anecdote. But nothing specifically tying him to any of Manning's workers." A quizzical, hesitant expression crossed her face. "Commissioner, problem is, men don't report being raped or sexually assaulted otherwise. It's the main hurdle in addressing male-on-male rape in prison. And that's another reason that tends to show Brayden is lying. He's much too open, has been much too...mmm..._eager_ to pin rape on Manning."

"Hm. So the fact that a man reports rape...makes it a lie. Sounds like old-fashioned attacks on women who reported rape...they were lying, or asked for it."

She continued, "I know...but it does remain a reality. And again, the fact that Brayden doesn't fit Todd's taste in kids. He was more capable than the others of defending himself. He'd been a wrestler in high school. He was picked on for being a loner that we could see. He fought off assaults, just not well. And, most importantly, he wasn't chosen by Manning."

"I take it Royce Jimenez is sticking to his support of the alibi?"

"Oh yes, your detective interviewed him this morning. Very much so. There is no shaking of that tree."

"We have to talk to Ty Jerome and Tomas Flora. What was Tomas like? A whore or scrappy?"

"Whore."

"We can't find him. Finished up probation and fell off the map."

"Happens."

She shared what she knew of other workers. With that, Shondra was on her way, shaking her head. "Brayden is useless. He'll be torn to pieces in trial. You need other evidence." And with that, a new angle was shut down. No new information other than Manning being in the information business. Curious development that only more firmly entrenched Todd in prison politics, but made him less of a lone loose cannon that might have offed Horenda.

Bo Buchanan was further aggravated with his surveillance team. They kept losing Todd. Over and over he'd disappear from their sights. This was causing a rift, he suspected, in the Manning household. Todd was at his house, and Tea was at Viki's with the kids. The main house's locks were being changed. There were people watching the house. Bo knew them to be Jamaican. Guards? Threats? Couldn't be the Posse...could it? Did they have a formal relationship with MK...?

Henry poked his head in, "Where do you want me to go?"

Bo smiled, "Find out more about the Mambo King hangouts here in Llanview. Who's who, which one is Manning's main spot... R.J. Gannon's club, and the two Cuban restaurants, Havana Cafe, and La Granada? And hey, what's the connection between MK and the Jamaican Posse? Manning's using them as guards."

"I'm on it. But...did you catch that twist in the forensics file on Horenda? The fact that his nipple was cut off, too?"

"Yeah...you know anything about that?"

"Looking into it. Definitely a curiosity."

"Sure is."

Tapping the table, Bo thought of the nine lives that Todd seemed to have. How many times he died, then didn't. How many times someone had it out for him, but he pulled through. How many more times could he do that?

Thought of the times he'd seen him in the prison hospital, the one time he saw him kicking heroin in solitary, not the first time apparently. Naked, soaking wet from buckets of water being thrown on him, pale and shaking. That empty, empty look on his face. Jesus, Bo wanted to help him, he'd at least got him to medical that time... but Todd found a way to help himself. Like he was doing now. Bo admired that about him, he did.

The forensics file on Horenda lay open on the desk, ugly pictures. Nothing tied the killing to Manning except his absence on the basketball court and access to the space in which Horenda was killed. The innocent kids that had been killed by the Serranos were piling up. Bo had to close this file.

He had to.

* * *

><p>The Delgado-Manning children had been well-placed at Viki's, the nanny there providing respite to their Aunt Viki. They were happy, even Lucia who carried a gentle worry in her heart. But before Tea could retrieve them, she needed to get a feel for the land, see where her husband- where TODD was, emotionally, mentally...<p>

Tea rang the doorbell for her own house, the locks having been changed and the new key not yet in her hand. She shivered slightly, the cold having come in quickly from the day. Snow was coming. She'd spent the day working, defending a young man accused of felony murder, a killing having taken place in the commission of an armed robbery. Rough business. He had these large, dark eyes that showed a sadness deep inside of him. He had no hope because his gang was letting him go down on their behalf. He'd be eaten alive. He was a vulnerable. A _Serrano _vulnerable. She couldn't turn the kid's parents down. It had been quite the show at the courthouse because this killing was being tied to all those teens dying on the streets of Llanview. Reporters, cameras, the works.

Todd opened the door, looking fine, rested, dressed in his preferred black. High end duds, no false poverty here. He looked like he was going out, smelled like it. Clean, musky, nicely trimmed beard. Hard eyes. Tea studied him closely, up and down. Looking for signs of intoxication, looking for the hate, the fourth-year shot. Finding no purchase, finding him unreadable, she walked in, swinging her hips, wanting him to know she was still standing. Goddamn tall, too.

She made her way to the kitchen, Todd following her, his heat touching her, pushing her. She pulled down a wine glass, grabbed a new bottle of _suavignon blanc, _poured herself a glass. Drank it down, poured again. More this time.

They hadn't spoken a word to each other since Leticia's place. After some more quiet time, the two checking each other out...

"You're a monster," Tea said. "I get it. Point made loud and clear. What do you want from me? What purpose do I serve...you? I'm not going to participate in your criminal MK bullshit. So...what now?"

Todd swished the scotch in his glass, the ice cubes banging against the sides. He stood tall at the counter, his face creased in contemplation. He dragged his gaze across the marble to her. Took her in, her reddish lips, her luscious hair that fell onto her shoulders, her beautiful, beautiful face. Her shoulders were back, her chin up. She was a fucking warrior. He'd die for her, hundreds of times over. He sniffed, drank his drink. Sipped it, really.

"You don't 'serve a purpose.' I love you. You're my wife, and I don't want to be with anyone else. We belong together. I'm never letting you go. For as long as I live."

"You know how hollow that sounds to me?"

"Yup." Sipped some more. Shook that ice. Tea sipped her wine. Eyed him. "Look," he said, "You packed my bags, I loaded 'em up... I'll...uh...go. You won't have to be reminded of my _badness_ - you can just live your life. Soon as the kids get here, I'll split. You'll be fine here, safe. I got people watching the house."

"I saw them. Where's Jed?"

"At the Penthouse, waiting for me."

Tea sighed, glanced quickly behind her, at the stove. "Are you hungry?"

He paused, sniffed. Questioning her. Settled on her just being...motherly. "Nope. Drank my dinner."

"You seem fine - couldn't have drunk that much."

"High tolerance."

"Did Jedediah learn anything?"

"Yeah...same thing we did. Rolon certainly hasn't been... secretive." He bit down on his teeth. Looked at his empty glass. Opted to leave it empty. Slammed the glass down.

"Todd..." He looked up at her with those eyes, hot, raging. In silence. "Do me a favor," she said, "and don't do anything right now about this...this Rolon? Can you wait...can we talk about it? You lay stuff out to me, and we'll see what we can do before you go off...all...convict-like on him."

He laughed a little, then didn't. He picked up his glass, drinking the water, the melting ice. "I have a lot in life insurance, you know. Lots of money put away for you, beyond the obvious. For the kids. If something happens to me, you'll be fine, you know."

"I'll never be FINE, if something happens to you."

He looked at her, raising his eyebrows, then...didn't. He ran a hand through his hair, turning at the doorbell. "They're here," he said. "I'm saying goodbye...letting them know, everything is okay."

Tea just watched him. In minutes she heard the noise of the children, Viki, and the nanny, Heather. When she peeked into the foyer, where they had made desperate love the first day he'd gotten home, where the hardwood had dug into her body, where HE dug into hers, into her heart...,

There, Todd was carrying Reese in his arms, beautiful Reese, a giggling boy with fingers in his mouth and brownish hair sticking straight up from his wild day, smiling hard because Todd was moving too much on purpose, as he talked to Lucia.

"Yeah? You did all that?" Swinging him until Reese just grabbed onto his father, holding for dear life, joyous, joyous, protected and safe. Lucia was laughing too, happy to see her father home from the war. Or rather...delayed war. Todd bent now, kneeling now, to his beautiful girl, smiling at her, a beautiful, open smile, his eyes soft and loving.

He'd put the monster well away, to act like the father, the brother, the husband. Tea watched the boundless love on his face, on the kids' faces, in their voices. It killed her the way he was able to move in and out of his various acts, his...personas. They were obvious now, like the letters "MK" on his tattoos. Once she'd seen them, they were very clear. Obvious.

How could she have ever thought him to have truly become this wonderful man? How could she have so easily believed that the husband she knew...was real? But then what did that mean? That the monster was equally NOT real? Her analysis was falling apart. In the end, Tea was just as much in the dark about Todd as she'd ever been.

All she did know what that she loved him, she loved the man he'd become to their little family, and she was watching him slowly disappear. She could no longer distinguish what was real, what wasn't. How badly she wanted THAT man back, more than anything in the world, she wanted him back.

* * *

><p>He'd left his children, his Tea, back at home. Walked away without looking back at them because if he did, he'd break and he couldn't afford to break. Drove the streets of Llanview knowing a goddamn cop was following him. He dumped his crap at the Penthouse, bullshitted with Jed over another glass of scotch, all the while making unshared plans to kill Rolon in lots of ugly ways. He then made promises to his kid, Jed listening to them, familiar with them, his eyes showing Todd that he didn't believe them for one second. So then Todd headed out to the Sun to see his life in action, the life he was supposed to be leading.<p>

God, he loved his paper. He loved that the shop never closed, that the paper would outlive him, that the paper business was so deliciously normal.

The Sun's offices were hopping tonight, lots of doings in this part of Pennsylvania. Top story was the rash of drive-by shootings in Llanview, resulting in the murder of yet another teen. The shooter? An 18 year-old man 'fessing up to be a Serrano hitman. One charge now of premeditated murder, normally a capital offense. A few more were coming down the pike. The defense lawyer, none other than Tea Delgado Manning. _Sonofabitch._ Todd stood at the edge of the press platform watching the papers get run for the next day's edition. Over and over he saw Tea's face in front of reporters' mikes. Beautiful, beautiful...so easily snuffed.

The hell was she doing taking on a Serrano?

Smithy Jackson moved into Todd's field of vision and Todd turned to him, nodded a welcome before returning to his watch over the papers. Smithy was all of 5 foot three, 110 pounds soaking wet, misty green eyes, and a creamy brown skin showing his mixed parentage. He'd be beautiful if it wasn't that the right half of his face had been severely burned when he was a toddler. His mother had done quite the number on him.

"They hit me up," Smithy said, "the LPD. Today. Just like you said."

Damn, Todd thought. He'd been hoping the kid was here for paper business. Fuckin' LPD. Fucking Horenda bullshit.

"Whatcha say to them?"

"What we were supposed to say, the same thing."

Todd nodded, his eyes still focused on the papers. "You all right?"

Warmth of a body reached Todd's side, the kid moving closer to Todd. "What if they find out?"

"They're not going to."

"What if they do?"

Todd turned to him, staring down at Smithy. "They have no idea. All they're looking at is ME. If anyone's going down for this, it'll be ME." The kid dropped his gaze, breathed out hard. Though he was almost 25, Smithy still was child-like. He'd had it bad at Statesville. Todd could see that the kid was shaking. He was terrified.

"Come on, Jackson," Todd said softly, "...pull it together."

The kid tried to, looking in the distance.

Todd turned at that, moving away, done with Smithy, but the kid followed until they were out of the press room and in the back hallway at which point Smithy pushed hard into Todd's back, his arms wrapping around Todd's belly, the kid's hands intertwined, locking into place. Todd stopped hard in his tracks, the touch of the kid making him want to jump out of his skin. He raised his hands, his arms, letting the kid do this, working hard at being human about this... but it wasn't working.

Curling his hands into fists, a white hot rage rushed through him because monsters broke this boy, broke him into millions of pieces. Todd had kept him on his radar once he left Statesville, learning about Smithy's parole, getting the kid a job, a place to live. He closed his eyes and huffed, as he felt the kid hands untwisting, opening up, pressing against Todd's chest. He bit down on his tongue, growling quietly, working to control his instinct to throw the kid away like he was still on fire.

"You'll protect me, right?" Smithy whimpered.

"Yes."

"I know you'll say no..."

"Don't even fuckin' ask. Let go of me."

"I can't," the kid cried. "I'm so scared. Please be with me...make me feel safe..."

Todd reached out to the wall, his hand on the cool concrete of the basement floors, in an effort to absorb the coldness. It didn't work. He felt that hot rage in his head, his blood, a kind of blackness leaking into the backs of his eyes. "Get away from me..."

"Please, like before..."

In a flash, Todd was in Statesville again, his blood full of deep, dark hate, his empathy dead. These kids had to learn to be tough, tougher. If they gave in to their fear, they'd be dead in hours. If they let themselves be used, they'd lose every reason to live. He turned and grabbed Smithy by the throat, slamming him up against the wall, the kid gasping for breath, his eyes huge and full of the deepest fear found only in abused children.

Todd had no feeling for it, biting out, "If you fucking ACT like a victim, you'll fucking BE ONE. We were all raped, Jackson...get the fuck OVER it. Act like the MAN you ARE, not like the WHORE they made you into."

Todd stepped back, but not before slamming the kid hard once more against the wall. Smithy didn't fall though. He glared at Todd, his own hands in fists now. His eyes were wet, shining in the low light, his mouth cutting across his scarred face.

"Yeah," Todd growled, "Like THAT, like THAT before, not like the other. Grab onto that hate, Smithy, grab onto it and never let it go."

"Screw you," Smithy said, his voice cracking. "We're talking first degree murder! There's good reason to be scared!"

"But that ain't no reason for you to be a fuckin' whore."

Smithy was quiet, Todd beginning to walk away, down the hall, walking that walk. Dead inside. So...fucking dead.

Real soft, Smithy's voice carried down the low-lit hall. "You didn't care about my being a whore when you were high. Before. Back then."

Todd stopped, growling wordlessly under his breath. Closed his eyes, remembering the sweat in that cell, the desperate assurance he needed from innocent green eyes to his fucked-up heroin-infused plea, am I alive? _Touch me, show me..._

Trying to forget...unforgettable shit from those days.

He turned slowly, silent. Locking eyes with the boy, his mouth tight with unspent darkness. The kid said, "When you needed me...I was there. You didn't want my hate then. You wanted what I had to give."

Breaking their mutual gaze, Todd rubbed his face, running a hand through his hair. Walked slowly right back to Smithy, the kid still trembling, still afraid. "You're right," Todd said. "I used you. Then I fuckin' beat the shit out of you so you could remember to fuckin' HATE me for it. Where is it, Jackson, where's the hate? SHOW ME!"

Smithy slammed his hands against his face, and leaned against the wall, sliding down like all the air had been sucked out of him. He held his head with those worn hands and just cried.

"Fuck...!" Todd reached back and punched the wall with all he had, the concrete not giving an inch. He groaned at the pain, hunching over as he pulled his wounded hand into his belly, his soul lifting in a kind of ecstasy that released the rage at last. Panting with relief, he finally got down to the kid's level, murmuring, "Come on, Smithy. Come on. I got this thing, okay? You're gonna be fine." He reached out, paused, then held the kid's head by his soft hair, saying in his gentlest voice he could muster, "Nobody'll ever hurt you again. Not even the state of Pennsylvania. They'll have to go through me first."

The kid held Todd's hand against his head, whispering, "But what ABOUT you?"

"Whatever it takes. If I have to go back... I have to go back. If I die before I get there... well... there are way worse things." He shrugged. Smiled. His eyes though...they didn't quite carry the grin that was supposed to be comforting Smithy.

"Even if they go after the death penalty."

Todd looked away, studied the LOVE on his hand. "There ain't no way they'd give me the death penalty for offing that motherfuckin' pedophile."

The two sat in the quiet a while, regaining themselves, the people they were supposed to be. Smithy nodded, breathed in deeply, saying, "I'm sorry I got in your space. Just freaked out is all."

"Just don't do it again." Todd stood up and reached a hand to Smithy. Pulled him up. "You okay?"

"Yeah...sure."

Minutes later, Todd was alone in his office. He signed off on stuff, answered email, gave the go ahead to purchase another local paper, adding to his growing collection of small-town papers. One o'clock in the morning. When he sat back, he felt Smithy's hands on him again, a physical memory of it, and he shuddered. Shit that happened in Statesville crawled throughout his body, his head... the picture of Horenda's disgusting dead body crept out, the feel of it, the smell of it, those eyes. The image of Horenda alive and well and abusing Smithy, who'd been the Serrano whore that had gotten away the first time Todd tried to kill him...

Todd had jumped up and held on to the marble counter top as he dry-heaved into the sink, god, god, he'd been no better than Horenda...

Sniffling...he leaned against the counter. Turned on the faucet, washing his face, watched in the mirror the water drip off his ugly mug. Heroin had made him crazy, Statesville had made him crazy... There wasn't any reason for him to be loved by Tea. None whatsoever.

Yeah, she finally got it. He was a fuckin' monster.

After gathering some necessary _items,_ he turned and left his office, locking it. Walked down, down, into the depths of the Sun building. Into the old subterranean tunnels that ran throughout Llanview. He heard a scream, a muffled scream as he walked the dark hallway, light coming from old fluorescent, that seemed to have life from another freaking planet. Rubbed his face, still feeling Smithy, Horenda...

Pulled out the unregistered Glock from his waistband, readied it.

He opened the door to a dark, wet room where the scream wasn't so muffled. A single light bulb swung a little with a gentle breeze that came from above, came through vents along the tops of the damp walls. Todd aimed the Glock at Rolon's head. Watched him struggle against the wooden post he was tied to, a post he had gotten tied to by some very helpful Jamaicans.

Rolon shook his whole body, the gag in his mouth choking him, furious, desperate. He banged his head against the post, one of many in the room. He was sweating like a pig, bleeding like one too. He tried to talk, to yell, tried to say horrible things. Todd walked up to him and slammed him hard with the butt of the gun. Blood spattered, Rolon going slightly limp.

"I thought you were my friend, Rolon. Why the fuck are you trying to kill me?"

The two men knew in that very moment, gazes held in a fiery grip, that Rolon was going to die. Rolon had taken on _El Diablo Blanco _and lost. He only had one chance at survival: to reach his true brother.

_Very...small...chance._

To be continued...


	18. Chapter 18

Caged Chapter 18

_The days were long in Statesville, long, boring, scary as hell days. Todd was firmly entrenched in the Mambo Kings; he was their informant, negotiator, and when needed, he was the Grim Reaper, the one who held the keys to someone's life, to someone's death. He did it all to stay alive, to protect his "kids," and to make sure he got home to his family. But despite the seemingly tolerable justification, more and more, he didn't know who he was, didn't recognize the proverbial man in the mirror. When he looked at the letters, LOVE, cut into his knuckles...he found them empty, meaningless...sometimes, not even remembering why he'd ever done it in the first place..._

_...especially when he was looking at those letters as his fist flew through the air to land on someone's face, throat, head, crotch._

_Getting information wasn't always easy despite his web-like system. Trading goods, trading other more coveted information, didn't always work, especially if the information got stuck outside the prison walls...far away from Todd, from where it was needed._

_Today, for the tenth day in a row, Todd could not get the name of a gun runner that was planning on bringing a whole shitload of weaponry into the city, info he needed bad. MK wanted it so they could continue to control the influx of firepower that would get to rival gangs. He paced in the yard, watching a basketball game. Smithy Jackson, a Serrano whore that Todd rescued, a victim of Horenda, was hanging nearby in Todd's shadow as usual. Joe Rodriquez hadn't been able to learn anything from his time in the laundry, working with Ty Jerome. All his workers had failed at getting the requisite info. None of his outside contacts were coming through either. _

_Ernesto sidled up to Todd, "We have to stop that motherfucker. Those god damn Serranos cannot get more guns. The IRISH cannot get more guns, and neither can the Thirteenth Street club."_

"_You think I don't know that? I've tried everything. FUCKIN' everything." Todd lit up a smoke, sniffled back noisily, his addiction in a bit of a stall. Couldn't get to his relief for a couple of days, couldn't get normal. It was causing him... pain. Ernesto eyed him, shaking his head. _

"_You in trouble again."_

"_Nope. I'm...on a diet. You try living on 500 calories a day."_

_Ernesto laughed, "Get that name, Manning."_

"_Yup." He breathed in the smoke and watched that red ball fly through the air, bouncing into a crowd of Eighth Street soldiers. They all looked at the Russians who wanted their ball back. Another fight ensued and Todd nodded to his boys to get out. They all moved away._

_Just as Todd hit the main prison building, he got tapped for company. A visitor. Jedediah. Todd grinned, thought about chasing him away, but then decided he wanted to see his kid. He wanted to look into those innocent eyes, live there a while. Letters just didn't seem to be doing much for him these days. He almost asked Tea to come...but one look in a mirror...and no fuckin' way._

_Limping across the inner hallways, he got to the visitor's center. Saw Jedediah tapping his knee up and down, waiting, waiting. His hair was a bit fly away from his motorcycle trip, another ride without a helmet. Todd made his way to the table and smiled at his son._

_Jedediah could see heroin working its way out of his father, recognized the runny nose, the sad look in his eyes, the slight tremble in his hands, and the fine sweat on his skin. _

"_Pops...you okay?"_

"_Yeah...got the under-the-weathers. No big." He smiled again, "Talk to me. Tell me shit I don't know."_

_Jedediah looked around, saw they had space. He looked down, saying softly, "Shit you don't know."_

_Todd got a bit concerned, not recognizing Jed's mood, or air. "What's goin' on?"_

"_I got something for you. A...name?"_

_Furrowing his brows, Todd looked hard at Jed, getting a sinking feeling in his gut. His breathing got all caught up in a tangle of worry. _

_Jed said very quietly, "Lionel Hardy...staying at the Paradise, in town." Jed didn't return the gaze of his father, picking at his fingernails instead._

"_Who the fuck is that?"_

"_It's something that you need...and it comes from the sea...all about the steel."_

_Todd slammed his jaw down tight, recognizing the code words. Sea...Florida, the steel...guns. His hands drew into fists. He looked around the room, side-glancing, shooting back to his kid in front of him. He was frozen with complete and utter terror for Jed._

_Under his breath, he spit, "Jesus...fucking...Christ."_

_Jedediah smiled slightly, trying to play this off, trying to deflect his father's heat. "Whatcha think of that, Pops? Came across it...in my dealings with...some kids at the clubs." But the smile faded and Todd looked at him with the deepest horror, sorrow, he'd ever seen on his father's face. Todd swallowed and paled, his eyes dropping down. _

"_I'm not feeling so good, Jed." _

"_Pops...it's okay..."_

_Todd shot his arm at Jed, grabbing the kid's neck, hissing, "No...NO! I will fucking kill Gannon for this..."_

"_It wasn't him! This is ME. ME. Do YOU understand? I made the decision to bring this here...I DID. For you."_

_A guard came right on them, "Cut it out or I cut this off."_

_Todd let go, sat back, rubbing his mouth, his face, pulling his hair back. He was visibly shaking now. Looking like he could be sick any moment. "Jed...god, please don't, ever again. Please don't try to help me anymore. I won't see you, do you get that? I won't...see...you."_

_Jed shook his head, trying to control a sudden rush of emotion, "You'll take what I have because I'm not gonna sit around, hearing shit that can HELP YOU. I am not gonna do that. Do you hear me? DO YOU?"_

_Todd was bested by his kid who wasn't a kid anymore, tears stinging his eyes, illness rolling through him like a fucking roaring river of hell. He could hardly breathe...his kid was in serious danger. And there was nobody to blame but himself. "Jed," Todd said, reaching for his kid's hand. "Please... please...you have no idea...what all this is."_

_Jed pulled back, "I know exactly what it is." He got close to his father and rasped, "I'm not going to sit by and watch you get killed by the fucking MKs. I'll be back. You can use me. I can get you stuff, get you info, get info OUT. Anything so that YOU can come home." He stood up and eyed his father, who looked...so terribly broken. "Either you take the information from me, or I'll tell someone else to get it to you. Which do you prefer?"_

"_Jed..."_

_The kid walked away, his own walk cocky and determined, and Todd sat there for a while. Breathing and living in the light of the room. This was one place that had light behind the walls, inside. Tears stuck in his eyes, stuck there like ... clotted blood. The guard shoved him and Todd got up. Hit the yard again. Walked right up to one of his contacts, "Got my stuff today? I got straight-up cash, man."_

_Two twenties got passed and Todd got the shit he craved. Put the sheet up in his cell, skipping dinner, claiming illness. He got high like he wanted, stripped down, and huddled there on his cot. Put his knees up, head down, his breathing slowed, his heart dipping into a slow beat. He did not know who it was who lifted his chin and looked into his pinned eyes, smiling angel-like, smiled like Todd was a man who deserved such a look. Todd pulled whoever it was, pulled him close, and rasped, "Tell me I'm alive. TELL ME!" Then those blood-heavy tears inched out and he let go of the person in his hands, pushed him away._

_But the person got up close again and pressed a hot body against Todd's, whispering, "You're alive. You are. I can hear you...I can see you, I can taste you. I can touch you." _

_The words were barely out and like a snake capturing prey, Todd grabbed Smithy...the Serrano whore who had run away from Horenda when Todd tried to kill him that one day, the whore that Todd ended up rescuing. Yeah, took what the kid was giving because Todd wanted to feel something other than the hate running through his veins, the sickened loathing of who he had become. He wanted to touch skin, to feel that human heat, and he wanted so badly to BE touched. Loved. Gripping the whore to him, his mouth tight on the salted skin of the kid's neck, his body hot against Smithy's._

_Fast, fast, his boxers shifted low, his cock painful with need, his shirt off..._

"_Touch me...like that...like that..."_

_Shit happened then, Todd using that whore's shockingly firm touch and his solid body, wanting all that heat, all that alive-ness, grinding his hips against the kid's half-nakedness. Todd then shook hard, gasping at the intense stolen come, his head hitting the steel of the cot. Just the same, Smithy moved forcefully against Todd's body, the whore himself finally jerking and grunting...and that sound, that noise, all their sticky blended wetness, seemed to waken Todd to himself. And god, god...he was a fucking monster for invading such space, such violation of trust, just to feel SOMETHING, right? Right? He was the kid's protector ... right? _

_God, god...no..._

_He kicked the kid away, kicked the crap out of him, and only stopped when Smithy started groaning at the pain, started crying like the child he truly was despite his age. Todd stood over him, cursing himself...sickened...to no end. He threw the kid out. The kid looked at him, blood coming from his mouth, his ribs already turning blue from the beating. Wounded eyes._

_Todd just grabbed onto the high and growled, "Get the fuck out before I fuckin' kill you. GET OUT!"_

_Inside, in the darkness of the night, Ty Jerome sleeping like a baby above him, Todd tried to die. Tried so...hard...to just DIE. Lay in that bed with a shank to his own throat...he slid it across, but couldn't get any deeper than his skin..._

_He was no better than Jessie Horenda, and just as cowardly because he couldn't off himself. So goddamn alive when the morning bells sounded, the measly blood not even enough to color his bed linens. That morning, he gave the name of the arms dealer to Ernesto, the poor fool ending up a floater in the Llantano river. Thanks to Jedediah, the Posse, and Todd, the MKs kept their solid hold on the flow of firepower into the state of Pennsylvania._

_And Smithy...well, he was fine...because whores like him are pretty resilient. Todd warned him though in no uncertain terms, "Stay the fuck away from me when I'm high because I will use you in a way that will HURT." His voice shifted...deepened...thinned out, "Horenda was your friend in comparison to me."_

_Smithy heard the words, but he'd seen too much of his protector that night, knew the threat was no longer quite true, keeping his distance anyway. He understood that Todd was like a cracked vase, unable to carry or receive any kindness, love, warmth. Everything was colored by violence, by... hate. Sometimes though, when Todd drifted in his heroin cloud and looked oh-so-hopelessly at that kid in his shadow, Smithy softly said, "You are good and true and real. I promise you that." Keeping his distance, just the same. _

_And Jed...from then on, Todd took every bit of information Jedediah had to offer. He was a living, breathing monster. MK for fuckin' life, man._

"_Say cheese," said the photographer, as the guard shoved Todd in front of the camera, Todd shivering with such a depth of hate that there was no end to it, his hair falling in his face, the snake tat on his neck spitting and black, his features hard, hard,...he groaned, "Fucking sons of bitches..."_

"_Welcome to your fourth year at Statesville, Todd Manning." _

_Click._

* * *

><p>Todd squatted low, a couple of feet away, returning Rolon's quiet stare. He sniffed noisily, rubbing his nose with the back the hand that held the pistol. He was terribly calm now, the calm Rolon knew to be deadly. Yeah, he'd seen his friend this way before, in the minutes before he brought down a special hell on the person in front of him. Rolon glanced away, bit down hard on the gag …<p>

"Explain it to me, _hermano._ Coming into my house, walking up my stairs, walking into my bedroom where I sleep with my wife, my children..." His face tightened with absolute disgust. "...and then shooting me up with heroin? I don't understand." Todd waited, shaking his head a little, trying to encourage his captive to speak. "Ohhhh...but you can't really talk, can't really _explain shit _to me_._ Too bad for you."

Rolon groaned, words getting stuck in the gag.

"I saved your life, you saved mine, over and over when we were at Statesville. And since. I thought we knew each other other, I thought we got each other... _teníamos respeto. _RESPECT!"

Rolon jumped at Todd's sudden yell and then his shoulders slumped, his head dropped. They had love for each other, it was true. Todd had done a lot of stuff back then, for Rolon. Paying the debt he owed. Paid more than he owed, he figured. Always defended Rolon when Ernesto called Rolon out for some crap or the other. Todd would always get in Ernesto's face, spitting close, risking his place in MK, Rolon having to pull Todd away.

Always defended him now, to Pedro. Until recently.

"There really isn't anything you can say, you know. No reason you will ever be able to give me that will save you, right now, from a bullet in your fucking head." Todd aimed the gun at Rolon and Rolon shook his head, his eyes wet. Todd tilted his head, closing one eye, aiming...aiming. The two men locked eyes, Rolon mumbling a sad, pathetic, "I'm sorry."

"I think I actually understood that. You're..._sorry? _That what you say? SORRY?" Todd laughed, a hard, sharp, laugh that was more a curse than anything. Got to his feet. Got close to Rolon, the gun pressed against Rolon's head. Rolon looked up, said sorry again.

"I heard that before... SORRY... sorry I beat your ass, sorry I cheated on you, sorry I fucking stole everything out from under you, your trust, your faith, your entire WORLD! Yeah...heard that before. It doesn't mean shit. Believe me, I KNOW."

Todd's face quirked, rage simmering beneath the surface. He wasn't quite as calm as before, Rolon could see. This was a kill that would haunt him; Rolon understood that. He had thought over and over about his own plan to kill his brother, thought of that heart beat that had slowed down, the incredible degree of peace on his face, in those light eyes. In some ways, it had struck Rolon that Todd was so thankful to be dying. Later that day, Rolon began to think that he wouldn't be able to live with himself had he made it happen. He kept his eyes on Todd's now...

Said something that Todd didn't understand and his brows knitted in question. "Say your prayers, Rolon..."

Rolon fought against the ties, screaming into the gag, and Todd watched him a while. Finally, he bent and untied the gag. Stood tall, the gun aimed well. Rolon huffed, "Rose. Don't hurt her. She's my daughter."

"Your daughter. Why should I care about her? You didn't care about MY kids. That it was going to be MY kid who found me in my room, DEAD. My SON. You didn't care about that shit."

"PROMISE ME!"

"I don't promise anything to you."

"What about Leticia...you care about her, don't you?"

Todd paused, "She's a whore."

"Who treats you well, _hermano._ Who always does what you want... who gives you whatever you want. Who... worried for you when I asked about you."

Todd paced now, the gun to his side, "Who did not warn me, who gave up information to you about me, who fucking protected YOU over me!"

"Promise me, please...promise me. Rose is a child... you protect innocent children."

"Do I?"

Rolon breathed out hard, a choked sob in his throat, "Yes you do, _Blanco_... you always have. From the first days I met you."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Todd said softly.

"You are a liability to MK, that is why you have to be... ended ..."

Todd stormed back to Rolon, shoving the gun against him once more, "A liability? The fuck does that mean? You're MY FRIEND! MY BROTHER! You killed me!"

Rolon leaned his head against the post, looking at his friend, looking at that gun's barrel. "Manning...come on...we got the LPD all over us now, and they're after you. YOU. If you disappear, so will they."

Todd turned around, stepped a ways away. Slid down another post, plopping on the hard, wet floor. The gun was aimed again. "You think it'll hurt much if I shoot you in the stomach, so you'll die slow? Or maybe...take out your legs, arms... the pain would be..." He opened his mouth a little, gasping just slightly, said softly, "God, that would hurt."

Rolon bit his lip at the look inside the mind of his broken friend, and he bent his head, listening to the sound of water dripping, a distant rumble of machinery. The place had freaked the Jamaicans out. They'd nabbed Rolon as he walked to his car at the Havana Cafe. Middle of the day. Nobody noticed. Leticia had been scared to death. Had called Rolon in the morning, telling him of Todd's visit with his wife. The threat to Rose pushed her over the edge - she was hysterical. Rolon knew he was in trouble then. Had hoped for mercy from Pedro but couldn't find him. He knew he'd been careless. But before he could do anything..._bam_... here he was. Those men had beat him, tied him, and ran the fuck outta here. Hours ago.

"I betrayed you. I know that."

"Yes, yes you did...and oh god... that is something I cannot..._ bear. _I cannot...fucking BEAR THAT!" He shot out the post above Rolon's head, two, three times, and Rolon ducked hard to avoid the rain of splinters. The blast had been loud, deafening even, and Rolon wondered if anyone could hear. He looked up, like the ceiling might come down. Todd re-aimed the pistol. Closed the one eye to get the aim right.

"I betrayed you," Rolon argued, "because you're my brother. I did not want you dying on the street. I figured...this way, with your drug, you would go out in peace. I did not want some...up and coming _maricon _killing you to get points. I did not want you to suffer!"

"Wow, what a fuckin' GIFT. I'm so BLESSED!" He got to his friend, pushed the gun against his head once more, "So I guess I'm gonna be doing you a favor by making this fast, yeah? A real gift."

Rolon swallowed, said, "What if I tell you that I could help you get out of MK, alive, safe, forever? Would you still kill me then?"

Todd moved the gun slightly, "I'd say...bullshit."

"I know you'd like out _…_ me too, I'd like to take Leticia and Rose...out."

"And how the fuck do you propose that?"

Rolon eyed Todd, "Let me go and I'll tell you. Let my...mistake...go, and I'll get us out. _Te prometo._"

* * *

><p>Tea was dreaming, a lovely memory of a dream. Lucia had been five years old, her father home for a year, adjusting really well. They were in love, Reese was a mere three months old, and she was in bed, still feeling the heat of Todd's powerful lovemaking. So there he was in pajama bottoms, dancing with Lucia in her little pajamas. The two of them early in the morning, dancing to a Michael Jackson song, matching their movements. Tea laughed and laughed, admiring Todd's surprising ability to carry a rhythm, his happiness at his Lucia, Lucia's joy and fantasy of being on a stage...a memory...such a memory. They were so beautiful...<p>

But then the dream shifted and the room was the Penthouse room and the walls were cracking and Tea was scrambling to get the kids, calling for Todd, calling for him, but he was huddled under crumbling concrete and ducking, his hands dusty, blood on him. Tea found herself screaming, then falling, falling away from him through the air...

She shot up in bed, full of terror. "God, god..." She grabbed her cell and dialed Jedediah. Praying Todd was with him. After a few rings, Jed answered, his voice tired, "Hey Moms."

"Where is he? You said you were going to stay with him."

"I know...I tried. He took off. Said he was going to the Sun."

"Jed! Damn it! Find him, please...for the love of all that's holy, FIND HIM."

"I know! I've been looking, trust me! And...I think I got him...some people who work for Todd, they uh...dropped off a package for him in this place under the Sun offices." Jed sighed audibly, "Tea I think it's the same kind of place...um...underground? Like where Phillip Manning took me."

"Jesus... well out of police radar. Did they describe this..._package_?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice softening.

"What was it?"

"Rolon Lopez."

Tea groaned, "Oh my god, was he alive?"

"Yeah...just don't know for how long."

"We have to stop him..."

"R.J. and I are on our way. You stay right where you are."

"NO! I have to go. Heather is here... I have to go, he won't listen to R.J., or you... I know him. Please come get me. PLEASE."

"Come on...this is dangerous as all get out - he'd never forgive me!"

"Forgive you? He won't be alive to forgive you if I don't go with! GET YOUR ASS HERE, JEDEDIAH CHANT!"

* * *

><p>The back and forth continued, Todd becoming more and more disconnected with reality, with society, each minute passing bringing him closer to the monster he'd become in Statesville where killing was easy, and loving was non-existent. He paced the darkened room like a caged panther, in and out of the shadows, cursing, trying...oh so hard...to kill his friend.<p>

"We're in a bind, Rolon. I don't trust you...you don't trust me... there's only one way out. I have to kill you. I do not TRUST YOU!"

"Well fucking get it over with, _Blanco! _DO IT! Kill me, brother! COME ON!"

"Fuck you, I don't do what you say, I DO WHAT I SAY! I'll kill you when I'm good and ready, bitch!"

Rolon had realized that not only was his friend completely out of his mind, but that the post had been weakened by Todd blowing it out above. Rolon pulled on it and it was going to go. He thought about how to get away... would he have to kill Todd to do it? If it became one or the other, then yes. He'd have no choice. But god knew, he no longer had the taste for it.

Around and around they went... screaming at each other at moments, at others, arguing over the possibility of getting out of MK. At still other points, they reminded each other of people they loved. And then... and then... a total throwback to very old history.

Rolon saw Todd disappear behind a post, clothed in the darkness. The gun crashed to the floor. Todd stepped a few steps away, backwards _…_

"Manning? Hey... _Blanco?_"

Todd didn't respond right away. Then his voice came soft, thumping Rolon, and Todd drifted into the light of the bulb. "Where...are we? Huh?"

He walked a bit and held onto a post, his eyes glazed over, his lips parted, his face blank. All emotions faded away. Rolon knew this, knew it well. And he breathed in a bit of a panic, then relief, a million things running through his head. God, it would be so easy to finish _El Diablo Blanco. _At last. MK could go on, survive, protected.

...a fucking seizure, sent from the heavens...or hell...

Rolon worked the post, pulling with everything he had. Pulled and pulled that post until it finally broke and he got away. Ripped the cords off just as Todd collapsed, his body twisting and stretching and his breathing...stopped cold. Rolon then stood over his friend, seeing the foaming pinkish saliva at his mouth, his hands in tight fists, his facial muscles jerking as his brain short-circuited again. His legs and feet banged against the concrete floor, a rhythmic unforgiving dance, to no identifiable beat.

"_Hermano..._come on...fuckin' breathe..."

He watched, fighting the instinct to help his friend, taking an immediate inventory of shit around Manning, of people... of every danger that could come upon him.

"Breathe, you _pinche _son of a bitch."

Yeah, the one danger, the only threat...was Rolon himself. He bent and picked up the gun.

All of a sudden Todd jerked one last time and finally took in a sharp deep gasp and then released. He jerked a few more times, his breaths now hard and fast, blood now more obvious coming from his mouth. Bit himself. He was wet with sweat, still breathing noisily, his body continuing to jerk, his head stretched back. It seemed forever before he finally stopped the movements, his body relaxing at last, the seizure finishing with him like a tornado in the plains.

Leaving nothing but neurological wreckage.

Rolon knelt at the head of his friend, fingering the gun. Todd groaned and opened empty eyes to Rolon. This was it, the situation that Todd worried about all five years of Statesville. He was completely vulnerable, completely defenseless. There was nobody to protect him now. Not a living soul to sweep in and stop Rolon from blowing his brother's brains out.

Rolon cocked the gun, pressed it against the heated skin of Todd's temple.

"If it's between you and me, _Blanco, _I'll take ME...getting out of here alive."

* * *

><p>Tea, R.J. and Jed flew to the Sun, hitting the stairwell, following loose, very loose directions from the Jamaicans. They wandered the basement hallways until they finally found an in to the deep tunnels. Tea grabbed hard onto Jed, feeling him shake with memory of his time in this kind of place. The halls were wet, cold, dark...the little light ancient and barely holding on.<p>

"Where are they?" Tea asked, desperate and terrified it was too late. One more turn, yet another twist...until they finally heard a voice. A door hanging open. R.J. put his hand out to Tea and Jed.

R.J. looked inside the room, stopped in his tracks, convinced the deed had already been done. He saw a bald-headed man leaning back against a post, long legs stretched out. He was a big guy, muscular with a neck that could pull a truck, blood darkening his clothes, his face hard-lined and drawn with pain. Todd lay next to him, very...very...unconscious, crumpled, his position awkward.

R.J. swallowed hard... "Put the piece down, bro," he said, "I got one on you...and got no problem usin' it."

Tea gasped and Jed held her in place.

Rolon looked up and shook his head. Put the gun down. Put his hands up. R.J. had no idea if Todd was dead or alive.

"He was afraid of this, you know," Rolon said. "It was the one thing in that motherfuckin' hell that scared him. Lying here, like this... with someone who wanted him dead. Nothing else got to him that I ever saw with my own eyes _…_ not those kids, not the shit he saw, not the shit he did ... _nada mas excepto este_...just THIS. Lying here ... with no defense in the world."

Rolon stuck his hand out in the shape of gun, pulling an imaginary trigger, "Click...click. Ten times over I could have shot him. Ten times over, I could have broken his neck, suffocated him, bashed his head in with my bare fists."

Tea and Jed moved closer behind R.J., Tea finally seeing what R.J. was looking at. "Todd!" R.J. reached for her, and like Jed, held her back hard. "Not yet, girl."

Rolon looked up at her, "I didn't hurt him, _mamita rica_. He had a seizure. It's been a long fuckin' night. Endless."

Tea growled, her brown eyes on fire. "You let me go to him. R.J.!"

R.J. saw the gun at a safe distance and finally released her. She ran to Todd's side, Rolon scooting away. Jed and R.J. looked at each other, a little at a loss as to what to do. The man was upset, in a bind. Tea murmured, pushing hair out of his face. "You bit yourself. God...such bad timing. Can you get up? Todd?"

He simply looked at her and slipped back into that deep sleep that always followed a seizure, turning into himself. Tea took her coat off and wiped his face of his blood and saliva. Covering him. He groaned and pushed her away. She turned to Rolon, "You tried to kill him. In our HOUSE."

"I did. I thought it was better that I do it instead of someone else."

Tea turned and reached fast and hard for the gun, pulling it up, aiming it right at Rolon who hardly flinched. Jed yelped, and R.J. called her name, "Tea!"

"Tell me why I shouldn't KILL YOU!"

"Because I didn't kill him, _preciosa._ I sat here with him and protected him. As I've done for the past eight years. Eight years...watching over him when he goes down. He's MY brother, I'm his...this was the time to kill him and I didn't." He paused in the silent, stunned air. "I couldn't do it. No matter how much MK would get from it."

Jedediah walked slowly up to Tea, putting his hand out, "Moms... he wouldn't want you to have blood on your hands. Gimme the gun."

She looked up at him, "And he wouldn't want you to have blood on YOUR hands."

R.J. sighed, "Yeah, well...don't be so sure about that."

Jed breathed out hard, glaring at R.J., asking him to shut it. R.J. shook his head, eyed Tea again. "Woman, put that gun down. Let's take this motherfucker MK bastard back to the Penthouse. We'll keep him until Manning wakes up...let him decide what to do with Lopez. Let him decide if his life is worth anything."

Rolon eyed Tea, smiled a crooked smile at her. "You're his woman."

"And you're the father of his whore's baby."

The laugh that came from Rolon surprised everybody, "You are definitely Tea. Beautiful Tea. Why he ever looks at another is a mystery to me."

"Don't use my name. EVER."

R.J. asked, "Can he walk? I mean, is he really out? We gonna have to carry him?"

Rolon spoke up, "He can walk. He can sleep-walk. We did it many times..." He looked over at Todd, chuckled a little, "Eh _hermano?_ Remember walking that yard, walking through the halls of that prison... getting you someplace safe. He's weak, and words don't come easy, but he can walk. He'll walk with me."

Reluctantly, Tea agreed because Todd wasn't responding to her.

Getting up, Rolon went to him, slapped his cheek, spoke softly, "Get to your feet, _Blanco,_ come on. Time to go."

Todd opened his dead eyes to Rolon, the man's voice moving him in a way that Tea's really didn't. It struck her as...rote, a memorized dance. Todd grabbed onto the hand of Rolon who pulled him to his feet. Todd held onto Rolon, like a child. Walking slowly, his head down, looking at the ground. Tea got up, too, and the five began the long twisting journey upwards, back to the city.

As they walked, Rolon talked to Todd, "Just keep your head down, so they don't know that you're fucked-up, so they won't get to you. You're all right, dude. You all right." His voice was soft, and Tea couldn't deny that there was real caring in it. Such a big man, such a criminal, walking with his brother...

As they came into the dawn of Llanview, Todd stumbled and Rolon caught him. "So close, so close," Rolon murmured. They got into R.J.'s Hummer, Todd leaning against Tea in the back, Jed driving, R.J. next to Tea with the gun pointed at Rolon in the front passenger seat. Drove to the Penthouse that way. Slipped up the elevator.

Handcuffed Rolon to the bed in the guestroom. Another day...

* * *

><p>It was near dinner time, and Todd stirred from his sleep of the dead. He looked around, unable to gather where he was. Tea walked into the room, bringing him some hot coffee, some food on a tray, setting it down on the bed. He sat up, wiping his mouth, slurping water by the bed. He'd cut his tongue badly and he cringed at the pain. He had all those dark clothes on, still. There was that.<p>

"What's goin' on?" He was distressed, his face...crumpling with confusion.

Tea went close to him, "You had Rolon, under the Sun...in those tunnels." Sighing, "I think you were going to kill him. Then you had a seizure. We found you. R.J., Jed, and myself. I was trying to stop you...but the seizure did. We brought you here, to the Penthouse. Rolon is in the other room."

Todd blinked, the night having completely disappeared from his mind. "Rolon." Pieces though were seeping in. The gun. Tea had no idea he had one. He looked at her, guiltily...

"R.J. took your gun."

"I kept it at the office, so the kids..." Another realization hit him... "He didn't kill me. He could have. I was...out."

"Yes, Rolon said just that...he could have killed you down in those tunnels, but he didn't. He protected you during your seizure, while you slept, afterwards. We didn't find you until much after it had happened. Todd, he protected you. He could not hurt you."

Tea studied his face, and he watched her. The night...coming back to him. He couldn't kill Rolon either. He hadn't known what to do. He kept delaying. Kept talking.

"Where is he again?"

"In the guest room, handcuffed. He's not going anywhere. We're leaving it to you. How are you feeling though?"

He shrugged, words...not quite there yet. He looked over the tray of stuff. Pushed it away. Scooted into the bed, on his side, looking at Tea. He looked so child-like, so vulnerable, so unlike the monster she'd seen threatening little Rose, about to punch out Leticia, a WHORE he saw regularly...

…God, Tea only knew the tip of the iceberg on his being a monster, on his doings with MK. She never did meet with George. They were supposed to do that...yesterday? Today? She shook her head, her face a mask of sympathy. She chuckled a little, "How is this possible? How is it I feel warm fuzzies for you?"

He shrugged, putting his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She touched his chest, his arms, fell into him. He grabbed onto her tighter, whispered, "I'm sorry."

"The thing is, I know you are," she said, moving her body so they were intertwined like they so often were, in that way that a husband and wife do, a familiar tight grasp of safety in the big bad world. She turned to face him, their faces inches from each other. He looked like himself, the rage gone from his eyes, the hardness gone. His face was soft, and relaxed. She reached up and touched him and he closed his eyes in response. She reached up and kissed his lips, lips that were yielding and full of want.

"I have no reason to give this to you."

"I know," he said.

They began to kiss that much harder, and he put her on her back, lifting her blouse, moving her bra out of his way, beginning to kiss her nipples, suckle at them. He got up on his knees, looking at her, smiling slightly at Tea, at her openness. He pulled her jeans down, off, her panties going with them. Took a small breath at the sight of her, glancing up at her face, open, expectant... he put his mouth at her core and licked the salty wetness, hearing her moan softly, her legs giving, opening to him. He slipped his finger inside of her, kissing, kissing her...there.

She moved against him and she grabbed his hair, pulling it tight into her fists. He pushed his tongue into her, his mouth against her, suckling at her, licking her in a kind of worship of her true femininity, in total submission to HER.

God, god...

He kept his ministrations up, Tea finally screaming out as she came hard, thumping into his mouth, pulling him up to her when her orgasm subsided, to kiss him with everything she had, their tongues deep in each other's mouths, the taste of her, the scent of her, touching them both. Yanking his pants down, down, off, she touched him, stroked him, feeling his readiness...

... she then put him deep inside of her and he groaned at the feel of her silky center, kissing her messily, wetly, hard. She wanted him to make love to her, to remind her that he was still himself, still her husband...that he could still wear THOSE clothes, THAT persona.

He shoved himself in and out of her, huffing in desperate need, begging her to love him, "Tell me," he said, "Tell me you still want me, you still love me. Please..."

She shook her head, though, tears suddenly rushing to her, up through her, with every thrust of his body. No...no... she found herself mute, as mute as he could be. He rolled over and watched her move on top of him, watching her as she rode him, as she touched his hand that held her ass... Her hair moved on him, swinging with her dancing on top of him, with the rolling of her hips. He thrust into her, the feel of being with her, and ONLY her, making him high, making him breathless. He groaned, grunted at the intense pleasure that ran through his body, through his blood like the most amazing drug.

He gasped...shoving down thoughts...other thoughts...

She sat up and ripped open his shirt, getting him to take it off. She needed to feel him, see the lines on him, the color, his body... it thrilled her always. She took off her top, her bra, pushing her breast into his mouth where he sucked hard on her, getting her to groan, Tea wanting it hard, harder.

She bit down to stop her scream, to stop her terror at who Todd WAS. Thoughts...she shoved away...

He rolled her onto her back, grabbing her knee, pulling her thigh up to his hip, so close now, thrusting fiercely into her. The tray, the coffee, the food, crashed to the floor with their hard movements, but they didn't care. They were noisy, wild... neither stronger than the other.

He fell on her, his mouth crushing her neck where he kissed her, sucking hard to mark her. In turn, she pushed his head away, biting the soft skin of his throat, the pain, as she well knew, moving him into that eye-rolling, brain-numbing place he'd go, getting him to groan, "God, god, I'm gonna come...oh god...stop..." He paused his motions, both breathing hard, Tea releasing his skin, touching him all over, feeling the sweat, all from the ecstasy he felt from that cursed pain...

He raised up to look at her, his eyes full of sudden worry, of love, of desperate need for her, for his Tea, and of apology for his twisted-ness...

"It's okay...," she said, "I understand...it's okay."

...and with that he sunk back into her, moving his hips hard now, as she felt the strength in his shoulders, his back...as he held her hair tight in his fists, she herself moaning at that passion he always showed her. And with that, she knew with a kind of soul-gripping truth... she KNEW he shared this with nobody except her.

NOBODY.

Whatever pittance he bought from those whores...they had nothing of his soul.

Tea met his movements with her own bruising force, moving towards her own release. She panted his name, closer, closer, and his head dropped then, as she cried out in climax, as he held his breath, his warmth spilling into her, deep inside of her. He fell on her heavily, his body still wracked with the waves of ejaculation... still thrusting every moment or so, each one so deep and hard that Tea had to grab onto the headboard for strength against him. And when she looked at him, when it was all over, he looked back with a terrible sadness on his face. Panting with tiredness...with relief, release...

"I love you," she said, still holding onto him, their bodies hot, sweaty, desperate. "I will always love YOU."

"Tea..."

"What? What are you going to tell me? Huh? What else can you possibly say?"

He looked at her with worried eyes, and she said, "Never mind. God, I don't want to know."

He laughed a little, then didn't. In a raspy voice, in a voice laden with the worries of the world, he said simply, "I'm scared to go back. I'm afraid they're gonna pin this thing on me..."

She held him to her, his body tied to hers, the two...intertwined again, and she answered, "You're not going back. They'll have to go through me first."

She pulled his hair away from his face, looking at him. He held her gaze, saying, "You're going to remember why you're leaving me tomorrow morning."

"Maybe."

They heard a sound in the door, the door that Tea had left wide open. R.J. Gannon stood there, leaning against the doorjamb. "Wow," he smirked, "I need a fuckin' cigarette. Didn't know you had it in you, Manning."

Tea grabbed hard onto Todd who'd jumped at the comments, "Stay here," she said. "What do you want, R.J.?"

"We gotta deal with Lopez. He's a bit..._antsy_. Especially at having to hear y'all goin' at it like... fuckin' jungle fever, man."

Todd's body was humming with hate and Tea knew there was nothing to do about it. He grumbled, "First, get the fuck out and close the goddamn door...second...if you cut Rolon loose, I will fuckin' CUT you. Third..." He turned and spit the words right at R.J., "gimme back my PIECE, you punk-ass BITCH!"

Tea relaxed her body, and smiled, "Ahhh yes...the reason I'm leaving you. Glad you're finding words again."

Rolon yelled loud and proud from the room next door, curses in Spanish and English, Jedediah hopping in behind R.J., saying... "You want me to shut him...up... oh parents... _seriously._.." He slammed his hands against his eyes, turning away, R.J. smirking more, "What, you didn't HEAR them? Be glad you didn't SEE them."

Todd was beyond done, and went right through his woman, pulling out of her grip like she was made of a spider's web. He got up and swaggered across the floor of that room, swinging that hair, swinging that dick, scars and tats and raw muscle screaming Statesville as loud as the loudest shock of thunder...

R.J. stood real goddamn tall at the sight, not stupid, not in denial. The two men eyed each other solid, knowing who would always win when it came to Tea, knowing who would win, period.

Todd grinned nasty, cocky _…_ the cut across his face deep and angry, his light eyes... unforgiving. The rest of him...

"Get that cigarette, bitch, get all the cigarettes you want, and shove 'em up your black ass, good ... and HARD."

Slammed that door shut.

Yeah, Tea remembered well... that the monster was still kicking ... remembered why he was at the Penthouse, and she wasn't.

**...To be continued.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Caged **

**Chapter 19**

As soon as Todd slammed that door, he felt Téa's wrath at his back, heating him right through to his core. He put his hands up against that door, pressing his forehead against the cool wood because he really wanted to get out and beat the shit out of somebody, R.J., Rolon, fuckin' anybody. He'd pressed his head this way many times against cool steel bars back in prison, stopped in his tracks from doing what he wanted. A guard would be looking at him from the other side, threatening him with solitary. _Cool your tits, Manning, or you get the goddamn hole. _A hard baton against his knuckles reaffirmed the threat. His whole body shuddered with repressed rage. Thing was... he didn't even know why he was raging. The fire that ran through him just seemed to be pure, unadulterated... hate.

Turning to his wife in the bed, he saw her own fury with him. She sat straight up, arms crossed her breasts, sheets draped over her crossed legs. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders, wild. Her skin was flushed, creamy... and those dark, intense eyes of hers... God, she was beautiful. Especially after one of their impassioned trysts. A perverse part of him was glad R.J. got an eyeful. Todd hoped the sight cut Gannon to pieces.

"The hell is wrong with you?" She asked in a calm, quiet voice. "R.J. is helping us. Do you GET that?"

"I _hate _that guy," Todd grumbled. He turned his back to the door and sunk to the floor. Knees up. If he closed his eyes, he could recreate his cell. Looked at the can, the metal sink, the double bunk. Heard the breathing of his cell mate. God, he wanted a smoke. Looked around, patting his sides with both hands as if he had pockets.

Téa snorted and shook her head, "Why don't you check your _ass_ for those cigarettes?"

Despite himself, he laughed, deep in his throat, kept laughing, then growing quiet. Glanced around the bedroom. Bigger than a cell, lots bigger. Téa had lived here in this room, way back when. Earning her five million. He once stood in this very doorway, taking pictures of her sleeping. He felt safe that way. Safe in the doorway. Keeping HER safe from his insanity. At some point, all that safety had dissipated.

Her slight smile faded, her voice dropped. "I don't like you this way."

"What...in my birthday suit?" He watched her, his features softening. The anger just moments ago that had been eating up his insides had begun to dissolve at the look of her, at the feel of her disappointment in him. It had begun to recede, here in this small space... with the locked door behind him.

"No," she said, "I don't like seeing an out-of-control lunatic in the place of my husband. You're making me...lose... my very shaky empathy for you."

"I don't want your pity."

"That's all you have right now."

She'd punched him low with that shot, and he lived in the feel of it for a while. He felt tired suddenly, the adrenaline R.J. had inadvertently given him, the epinephrine Téa had provided with her body, all... completely gone. His brain seemed to be winding down, heading into the post-seizure dullness. He said softly, "Funny, I kinda thought..."

She laughed shortly, then didn't. "You thought WHAT? That because we made love, all was good? That because I...touched you... that I'd forgotten everything? How stupid do you think I am...or maybe... or maybe you _do _just think I'm a whore. Ready for you when you want...ready, willing and able so long as you pay the right price."

Ouch.

He didn't react other than to say in that same soft voice, "Not at all, Téa... I kinda thought you loved me. Did I hear you wrong. I _am_ deaf on that one side."

Téa's mouth had sorta shot out a bit premature she supposed. But GOD when he showed his convict self to R.J., when he tore into him, her whole body sizzled with spitting anger. The man simply did not deserve Todd's ire. But fighting Todd didn't help. Pressing her lips together, she wished she'd been a little less clever and little more... rational. A seeming impossible state of mind these days. She sighed, seeing him sitting so... she didn't know what he was conveying, back up against the door, arms loose around those knees. His gaze moved from her, to his surroundings, back to her, and back yet again.

Quietly, she agreed, "Yes, I said that. Yes, I love you. I will always love you. But I do feel sad for you, for us. Broken, still."

He stretched his legs now, palms on the floor. The silence of the moment made Téa want to fill it with noise. Needing more from him. Wanting to talk their way out of the present and into a place where things were... good. She studied him, finding their nakedness interesting. She was covered in linen, he wasn't. Ironic really, because she was the open one, and he wasn't.

Or was she just as closed as he was?

"Tell me about Statesville," she said.

"What about it."

He touched his wrist, lost in thought. She looked at his face, looked at his body, his chest, looked at the scars that bit into his skin. Touching a spot on her own shoulder, she asked, "How did you get that scar on your shoulder?"

He looked down, said, "Knife fight, don't remember the details."

"And the one at your collarbone."

"Same."

"What about the one on your side, not that one... yeah, the other." He'd been pointing to various places on his own body. In response, he just looked at her, implying yet another run in with a blade. "We had a lot of fights."

"How is that possible? Don't prisons have rules about weapons? Like...prisoners shouldn't have them?"

"Come on, Delgado," he said in a soft voice.

"Any one of those NOT a knife fight?"

His brows furrowed, his eyes focused on his skin, obviously searching his past. "Hmm." He turned a little, showing her that pretty nasty one on his back. He grinned a little sadly, "Basketball injury. Got into it with a pole that had some...screw or something. Cut me." He shrugged.

From far away, she whispered, "I'm sorry. For a lot of things."

"Feeling sorry for me again?"

"Yes."

"Don't."

He sniffed, got up heavily, the weight of the world on his shoulders, and walked across the room. Lay stomach down on the bed, next to Téa. She instinctively rubbed his back, touching those scars, touching the ink. "Were you afraid?"

"Sometimes."

"Did you... did you ever feel love... there, in Statesville?"

He sighed at her touching, turning to look at her. A slight narrowing of his eyes. "Yeah... through your letters, you know. Seeing Jed, as you know."

"Was there anything more... _concrete_... than that?"

Tiredly, he asked, "The hell are you talking about, Téa?"

"The truth?"

"We had this conversation way back... I took tests... I saw Tim... remember?"

"I talked to someone today. Smithy Jackson."

Todd chuckled dryly, "Yeah... that's what you do on your time off. While I slept off the seizure, you go digging up more about my past."

"Yes. He assured me he's totally on your side. He's protecting your alibi." Téa looked at him, his head up now, on his elbows, fingers working the sheets in front of him, smoothing them. Smithy had told her that he'd been raped repeatedly by the Serranos and that Todd saved him from that nightmare. Smithy dropped a really serious bit of information. Information that the LPD did NOT have. Information that would more than invalidate the alibi.

_Los Serranos members were raping you?_

_Yeah, mostly Jessie Horenda._

Holy shit. Todd didn't just hate Horenda for Diego Loriz... but for Smithy Jackson. When Téa asked point blank if he continued to provide sexual services for Todd, if the protection from Horenda involved a trade... Smithy had looked away from her, his gaze sad and empty, and he shook his head. _Nahh, he wasn't into that... I mean, you know. _He wouldn't look at her after that.

Téa had bit her tongue.

_Did he hurt you, Smithy?_

_He didn't want to, Ms. Delgado, he needed to. Had to make things clear. Had to be that way... to protect us._

_Tell me the truth, please. Did you have sex with Todd? If that comes out, his alibi might very well crash. At this point, if anyone learns that Horenda was raping you..._

After some quiet, Smithy Jackson said, _I mean, he had moments of human-ness, you know. I guess... Not a lot, that's for sure. But if you're asking whether he raped me... NO. NO. He really wasn't into THAT._

She left it at that. But right before walking away, Smithy pulled at Téa's sleeve, and Téa looked at him. Such a diminutive man. Delicate. Sweet face, pretty green eyes. Said, _I tried to be kind to him, you know. He couldn't like... keep it. _Smithy smiled, the scars on his face making his smile crooked. _He was like a cracked vase. It's accurate. Couldn't keep anything good inside of him. I tried, you know... tried to... he'd take niceness for the shortest time and then... he'd be raging at me. Angry for trying to make him keep what he couldn't hold. _

Téa got that really well. The convo ended. Smithy was going to go his grave rather than say something that would put Todd in a bad light. He had kept real quiet about his Statesville reality. But... what niceness did Smithy try to give him? Todd had been using heroin all through his time there, and had told her that... well, he turned to Leticia, and... others for something pretty specific... something that had gotten tangled up with the drug...

So who the hell did he turn to in prison?

"Smithy said something pretty damning," she said.

"What?"

"That Horenda raped him."

Todd dropped his head, "God, please tell me he did not tell that to the cops."

"No, he didn't. But..."

"BUT WHAT?"

"Todd... did he ever show you... love, try to... in prison?"

He sat up now, "LOVE? Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Téa felt the blowback on that. "I mean..."

He threw himself out of the bed, and paced back and forth in front of the bed, "Téa! There was no LOVE in Statesville! Nobody LOVED anybody! It was a GODDAMN PRISON! Nothing but fucking WAR, and manipulation, and VIOLENCE! If you're asking whether I ever felt FUCKING desperate to be reminded that I wasn't DEAD, desperate to know that I hadn't lost EVERY ounce of humanity that had ever run through my body... THEN... then..."

The quiet hit him hard. His breath shot out of him, and he just looked at her. Empty... empty. His eyes grew wet and his face crumpled with a horrible truth.

"Then what?" She felt a rush of pain in her heart, and brain... and she saw him on the verge of something horribly, horribly hurtful. "What, _amor_... what?"

He bit his lip, and looked hard at her. "Téa..." Frozen in place.

"I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere."

He covered his face, now. Collapsed onto the bed, hunched over, elbows on his knees. Away from her. Drew the sheet around him, pulling at it. Covering, covering.

"Jesus Christ..." His voice dropped to a whisper. Why this was worse than the goddamn whores, he didn't know. His wife... would never understand THIS. She hadn't been raped as a child, hadn't been abused in every way possible. She didn't understand that in prison, men lost all sense of morality, of normality, that the walls took away so much of who a person WAS. She wouldn't understand. Prison was why MK happened, why...how... he'd become a monster.

Téa knew. He didn't have to say anything. She had no doubt that he had turned to Smithy for that thing he seemed to need, high on heroin, broken inside. Smithy... had said it all to her without having to say a word. He looked like Brandy. He was a whore for those Serrano bastards. Todd would have seen... himself... and...

Téa wiped the tears off her face. Pressed her lips together. Trying, trying not feel sorry, not to be filled with a desire to kill someone who had been dead for years, to not want to kill Peter Manning for having instilled a base confusion in his own son on what love, and affection, and sex were supposed to be. She understood. She slid her body behind his, and wrapped her arms around him. She caressed his hair, his shoulders. She kissed the back of his neck.

"It's okay," she whispered.

He leaned into her, and let her hold him. After a while he said in a soft, nearly inaudible voice, "It is not beyond me... to let someone touch me in a way they're not supposed to, in ways I don't _normally _want... it is not beyond me to get confused over the kinds of sexual…," he swallowed, "...touching...that I want. So yeah, there were times when I needed to be treated like... I was real, like I was... alive. Like I was human. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

He was shaking now, ever so slightly, and he played with the edging of the top sheet. He turned to her, his face plain, unmoved. "He's dead you know..."

"Who?"

"The man you make love to, that man that loves his children, your beautiful amazing children..." He started to cry, but slammed the door shut on that. Sniffing noisily. "Jesus fucking Christ... how the hell did this shit get out? What the FUCK?"

"Todd..."

"Don't ask me about this shit anymore. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! Don't FUCKING ASK!" He pulled hard away from her, shook his head, like a dog...

"I'm, I'm, I'm gonna wash up. Gotta get to Rolon." With that, he jerked the top sheet off the bed, a wisp of fury in the act, leaving Téa bare. She leaned back, breasts out, her full legs stretched downward, a knee bent... her nakedness as much a statement as his. Fuckin' warrior, he thought. That's why he loved her. He stood there, sheet in hand, eying her. Shit, in the past week she pretty much got the whole goddamn picture and here she was, right there...

RIGHT THERE.

Found himself wanting to get right back inside of her... his cock strained at the thought of it. He so wanted to not be the monster any more... but it wasn't possible. They held each other's gaze, tight...hard.

"How is it," he asked, "That you can still look at me, and not be sick?"

"Because I love you."

Wrapping the sheet around his waist, he said in a thick voice, "Well, I love you. Whatever the hell that means."

"I know."

He opened that door once more, shutting it behind him. Felt raw, stripped. Hot tears suddenly rolled down his face and he wiped them away, hard. A wish to punch something coming right back. He shuddered again, the hate hot and real and heavy. Sniffed the wetness away, down his throat. He walked down the hall to the bathroom. Glanced up and down the darkened hallway, then took more steps to the guest room where Rolon was. Through the open door, he saw that Rolon was laid out on the bed, a wrist handcuffed to the bedpost. He probably could get out pretty easily, but he didn't fight. Rolon shot cool brown eyes at Todd.

"_Hermano, _you looking real pretty there. You here to fuck me too? Your lady ain't enough?"

"The fuck you say?"

Rolon shook his head, then opened his eyes wide as his _brother_ made his way fast and solid. Todd dropped the sheet, reached his arm back and began to do what he wanted. Punch the hell out of someone. Five, six times, blood bursting from Rolon's nose, lip, cheek. That right hook, then the left, weakening Rolon, who just couldn't fight back thanks to the handcuffs.

Kept at it until R.J. and Jed came into the room, each grabbing a shoulder to pull Todd away, struggling like hell. Finally, R.J. pushed Jed to the side, and pulled his gun out. And landed that puppy right against the side of Todd's head. Todd fell to the ground, grabbing the side of his head, in total pain. "Oh god... god..."

Rolon was groaning, Spanish rolling off his tongue, then in plain English, "Manning... come on... I said I was sorry... I fucking meant it... _Madre de dios... hijole..."_

Téa came to the door, dressed now, knowing she was responsible. "R.J., not his head..."

"He gave me no goddamn choice, Delgado! Get up, Manning!"

"Fuck you..."

"Don't make me hit you again!"

Todd looked up, blood running down his face, and he laughed, "You got me good there..." Getting to his knees, he then managed to sit at the foot of the bed. Looked at Rolon who sort of began laughing, too. Todd shook out his hand. Pulled it back into his belly. It was already so screwed up... didn't do it any favors.

"Just like the old days, yeah, _Blanco?_"

"Yeah... except these days, you're way more willing to kill me."

Todd got to his feet, dragging that sheet around his waist once more. Looked around at the eyes on him, flipped them off, and headed to the bathroom. Disappeared down the hall.

Rolon then said, "Hey... can someone... uh... like... give me a bandage or something?"

When Todd felt the hot scalding water hit his shoulders, he sighed with tiredness that went deep. Wishing, wishing... life had been different. His hand was killing him and he was glad for it. Wished like fucking hell he could get his precious drug. Bat shit crazy thinking, he knew. He'd have hit the tiles, busted right through them with his fist, if his hand hadn't already been screwed up from hitting the wall at the Sun, and now... from punching Rolon good. He'd have done it anyway if he hadn't been so goddamn tired.

_Sonofabitch._

* * *

><p>R.J. Gannon really wished he hadn't seen what he'd seen. Messed with his head, his heart. He had heard the crash of that tray that Téa had so carefully, lovingly, put together, heard the noise out of that guest room and his instincts said that Todd was on a rampage... taking shit out on Téa so he hopped to it. Planned on taking care of business once and for all, dragging Téa out of this place for good. Yeah, he'd come to the door and...<p>

Holy mother of god. Manning didn't affect him because he always figured that bastard was an animal in bed... but... but Téa, yeah. She affected him. She was a force, man, giving Manning everything he was giving, meeting his fucked-up _fucking_... with just as much power as he had. R.J. felt like a jerk, like a goddamn pervert standing there, but he couldn't look away.

Somewhere in his head, he had always imagined Manning raping Téa. Always thought that the guy would just roll right into her, use her, and walk away. That she was this flower being ripped to pieces, and just appreciating the love.

That was most definitely NOT what he saw.

And when she bit Manning... when she parted those lips of hers, and pressed down those perfect teeth in as unforgiving a way as she did, god that hurt R.J.'s heart. Something in that act broke him. Maybe it was that she'd changed, that she got corrupted by Manning. Maybe it was that she accommodated a sickness, maybe it was that it looked like a kind of vengeance...

More likely it was that R.J. was looking at a connection he could never have had with her, an openness that she never had with him. She'd been empty during their time together and he had never realized it until today.

Yeah, there was that, and the fact that Manning really, really LIKED the pain. When she tore into his skin, she shot him over the proverbial moon. Gives a man nightmares. He was a seriously messed up guy despite the cozy pillow talk, despite his very obvious love for Téa.

R.J. shook his head, bit down on his teeth, thinking of that sonofabitch stalking across the floor and slamming the door in his face with those ugly words out his mouth. Truth was, the whole exchange scared him. Scared him for Téa, for Jed, for little Lucia and Reese. Manning was in real deep... forgive the pun. Deep into MK, deep in Statesville psyche. Way more than R.J. had conjectured.

That's right, Manning was still in prison, forgetting love, forgetting family, forgetting humanity... never seeming to have gone through a normal and TRUE transition into society. Everything he'd shown over the past three years was bullshit, all that family and newspaper success... nothing but bullshit. That monster walkin' the floor of that room, unmoved by his nakedness, that being a normal part of prison... well, THAT was Todd Manning. He hadn't changed one iota since the day he came to R.J.'s bar to beat his ass for sleeping with Téa. For loving her. There was no difference in the walk, the cockiness, no difference in the hard-lined body made that way from lifting weights out of sheer terror that only convicts know. He was still hitting that iron, still steeped in terror. Above all, there was no difference in the bitter hate he carried … three years later and it was all still there.

_MotherFUCK._

He knocked back the second shot of the Grey Goose he'd pulled out of the freezer. Stood in that kitchen, hands on the counter, staring into the blacks and white of the granite counter tops. Trying to regain his footing. He'd promised Rolon a drink, something to eat. Another trip to the fuckin' loo. But he had to get himself together.

Then there was Jedediah. Goddamn he'd not liked R.J. spilling a wee suggestion that Todd had let him have "blood on his hands." R.J. had tried so damned hard to keep the kid out of Todd's business... but he was as stubborn as his father. Rolled right over every effort to keep him OUT. R.J. sighed, dropped his head, feeling that vodka burn through his blood. Seep into his head. Shit, he needed to get laid. Bad.

He turned at hard footsteps, turned to Todd coming into the kitchen. Dressed in fresh black clothes, hair damp still from his shower.

R.J. hissed, "You cool, now?"

Todd ignored him. Took a glass out of the cupboard and started to pour some of that vodka when R.J. took the bottle from him, and Todd growled, "The hell...?" He NOW looked at R.J.

R.J. held the bottle, pointed it in Todd's direction. "I'm done with your bullshit, Manning... from now on, this show... is mine."

"What's that mean?"

"It means I'm calling the shots with what you do with your little guest upstairs. You're all screwed up and you ain't thinking clear. And THAT is gonna seriously put your loved ones at RISK."

"Go to hell, Gannon!"

"Oh no, no, you ain't hearing me. I'm in charge now. And you're gonna treat me like I'm in charge. So the next time you show me as little respect as you been showing me, I'm gonna hit ya' like I did, only I'm gonna fuckin' mean it." R.J. eyed Todd with old eyes, and Todd started to walk away, grumbling a mild-sounding, "Fuck you."

...but R.J. grabbed Todd by the arm so hard that he flinched, his eyes shooting up to R.J.'s. There was a stunning unexpected strength in R.J.'s grasp that told a certain previously untold story, a story Todd recognized that silenced him.

"No, son," R.J. hissed, "you need to hear me out. Consider this a warning. Do not forget that my connections... are much older, more established, than yours. The Posse... will only be there for you, _so long as I am_."

That got Todd's attention. He pulled his arm out of R.J.'s grip. He did hesitate though. He did afford R.J. the space to talk. Fact was, he needed the Jamaicans. He made a motion with his head, his face an expression of submissive expectation.

"So here it is... _Blanco... _for the past eight years, while you been snortin' dope, fuckin' whores, and gangbanging in and out of prison, I watched over, cared for, and PROTECTED your family. For the past EIGHT years, I made sure they were safe and insulated from your shit as much as I could make that happen. So, forgive me for not turning it off, forgive me for STILL giving a shit about them since you decided to really BE YOURSELF and bring all that shit HOME. Forgive ME for still loving YOUR family, for still being here for them, and god fuckin' help me...for being here for YOU even though I hate your guts with everything that I am."

R.J. paused, letting his words sink in. "That's right," he then said, "...if it wasn't for Jedediah, Téa, Lucia and Reese...I'd have happily killed you today while you were lying on that basement floor like a fuckin' rat in a trap." He smiled, showing those perfect, sharp teeth... "But don't you think for one fuckin' minute... that I need you DOWN for me to kill you. You got nothing on me, SON. Not that fuckin' punch you got, not the connections you think you have, not your sheer will... you are a babe in the woods when it comes to cold-ass killin'. Your inability to finish off Rolon today is proof that you're mostly... full of shit, your weakness for your... _brother... _shows me that you're full of shit."

He raised his eyebrows, made a motion with his hand like an explosion... "Poof...like a dandelion in a gentle breeze...I can make you dead. One move by you in the wrong fuckin' direction... and I can make you... _dead_. And know this, Manning, I ain't gonna hesitate, or fuckin' cry about it." Another pause, R.J. saying once more for emphasis, getting right up in Todd's face, inches away from him, "Do NOT... diss me ... again, because I'm in charge now. You feel me... _Blanco_?"

Todd was caught in R.J.'s quiet rage like a deer in the headlights. R.J. saw the color from his face drain slightly... something going through his head, something R.J. wasn't sure about at first, but then the light went off. Of course. No question...R.J. was right. Todd Manning never left Statesville. Yeah, he'd been challenged in this little kitchen not by Gannon the bar owner, but by an older, more powerful con and he knew it. Because he was still in prison, he recognized R.J.'s superiority and superior capabilities. Because he was still in prison, he knew the threat of losing the Posse was real. Because he was still in prison, he knew he had to capitulate... or pay the price, right here, right now.

He glanced in the direction of the bedrooms, studying R.J. a moment or two. Balancing his choices, evaluating his chances of winning against R.J. Gannon. What a joke. There wasn't even a chance of winning. He was too raw, too beaten down. Any other time, he knew he could finish him. He knew that way back, when he took R.J. out at the bar, he'd cheated by surprising the hell out of him. Now? Not so much advantage.

"You got something to say, _Blanco?_"

Todd chewed on his lip, hating like HELL to give in to R.J. He looked around, pissed off. looking at R.J.'s jacket... still packing. And he had a damn fast draw. Todd rubbed his head where that gun had landed square. Bottom line though, win or lose... Todd would lose the Posse.

_Sonofabitch._

Locking eyes with R.J., he said quietly, trying not to sound like the cocky bastard he was. "I am sorry for disrespecting you the way I been. It won't happen again." He looked down, shaking his head in complete resignation. He knew his place in the hierarchy behind bars and it wasn't even close to R.J. Gannon. He would always be on the bottom rung. Especially now, without MK at his back.

R.J. put a hand to his ear, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear the rest."

Rolling his eyes, he spit, "You're in charge."

Todd put his hand out, asking for the vodka.

R.J. handed the bottle to him, watched Todd knock back that bitch and suck down more than a couple of shots. He pressed his mouth tight at the sting, and wiped his mouth with the black sleeve of his hoodie. Yeah, R.J. felt for him. A little. The fact that Manning was stuck in that rotten hell, unable to pull out of those shackles, that mess of steel and concrete, unable to live without sensing a threat of violence at every turn... well, that stirred the smallest tremble of empathy inside of him.

Fuckin' prison. Kills men's souls. If he could change the world... that system would be the first to go.

Like the older con he was, R.J. reached out and firmly smacked Todd's shoulder. "Glad to know we understand each other. Now, we gotta deal with that motherfucker upstairs. Just 'cause he chose not to hurt you today... that don't mean shit. I 'spect he knew we were coming... too much time having passed with you out of touch. He's still a threat, Manning. I'm sorry to say."

R.J. tilted his head, catching onto Todd's wounded-ness at hearing Rolon's loyalty questioned. "You don't like what I'm saying?"

Todd shrugged, "No, that ain't it. You're right." He paused. Looked hard at R.J. "I wanna trust him."

"Why? You don't trust nobody... why him? Why any MK motherfucker?"

He took another drink right from the bottle. Eyed R.J. "'Cause they were my family when I had nothing. They saved my life, more than a few times." His voice was soft, quiet, his gaze downwards. Shockingly sorrowful eyes looked back at R.J. "I gave up shit inside, for them. I wanna think... that it wasn't for nothing. Stupid, but there it is."

Slowly, R.J. reached out and flicked the tattoo on Todd's neck, Todd's hand touching right after. Gently, R.J. explained, "They're snakes, Manning. You trust a snake? A pit of them?"

"No, but I want to."

R.J. shook his head. "Don't. Not for one fuckin' second." He ended it at that, not wanting to give further attention to quite the revelation of quite the vulnerability. Tomorrow, Todd would hate that he'd filleted his soul in front of R.J. of all people. Post-seizure, R.J. figured. Téa had always said that in the day after a fit, he'd be... well, more open. God, he had to give Todd props for having survived Statesville with that fuckin' disorder, had to give Rolon a lot of credit. Too bad the love didn't last.

R.J. could see that Manning wasn't in the state of mind to really deal with the fallout of his MK connection. They were betraying him and it was pain that he did not like. This wasn't no hard bite to his throat...nope. This was a cut into his soul. Yeah, R.J. had a bad feeling that when Todd came to his senses... those MK bastards were gonna fuckin' pay and pay big. R.J. was going to have his work cut out for him if that happened.

To get the Mannings out... safely... forever... _motherFUCK._

After a few moments of quiet, Todd said to R.J., "You know... just 'cause I'm tippin' my hat to you... don't mean I forgive you for Téa. Don't think I didn't notice that you used the word, LOVE, in your little..._ warning._"

R.J. chuckled softly, "Yeah, yeah... I got that. I still feel the pain of your punch to my throat. Can't sing _Star Spangle Banner _like I used to. Now shut the fuck up and get upstairs. I'm right behind you."

* * *

><p>When Todd hit the bedroom, Grey Goose bottle in his hand, he looked at Rolon as if the man was an alien about to blow. Stood in the doorway, silent. Rolon shook his wrist, making noise. "Come on, brother, cut this shit out. It's me. Let's talk, like men, like brothers. No more punches, no more comments. Cut me loose." Rolon paused, "I'm not going to hurt you, your family. Nobody."<p>

R.J. walked close to Rolon, "Bullshit, Lopez. You're fucked. Your boy here found you out and now, what? You promising to be good?"

"_Hermano, _listen to me. I have a plan for both of us to get free of MK, of Pedro Moreno. Full-proof, man."

Todd sniffed and felt someone behind him. He turned, thinking it was Jed, but it was Téa, bringing in a tray of sandwiches, soup. Everything smelled wonderful. A Carlotta Vega special. She laid the thing gently on the bed. Despite her delicate movement, her voice was hard, flat. "What's this plan, Mr. Lopez?"

Rolon grinned, "Mmmm... _La Abogada muy preciosa..." _ He chuckled, leaning back on that bed. Looking at the food. He reached his one free hand towards the sandwich and Téa slapped it back. "Not until you tell us the plan."

The quiet in the room was making him crazy. He yanked hard at the cuffs. "Get me out of this, and THEN I'll tell you the plan."

Todd looked at R.J. and shrugged. "Just let him out. Let the _maricon_ eat."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah. Just do it. I got people on Leticia, her baby girl. Shit'll happen if he betrays me again."

Todd's voice was cool, serious. There was a certain terrifying truth to his words. Rolon eyed him, "I will not betray you again."

"You're not gonna get the chance, _hermano."_

R.J. took off the cuffs and Rolon rubbed his wrist, stretched out his arm. He pulled the tray to him and ate the food. Todd sat on a chair in the corner of the room. R.J. paced. Téa leaned against the wall. Watching everyone. Jedediah was in the doorway, now. When Téa turned to look at him, she saw a hard expression on his face, one that struck her as very... old. She also saw, with a sick kind of shock, that he had a pretty heavy duty pistol in his belt. Jesus.

When Rolon was done, he bowed his head to Téa, "_Gracias, Abogoda."_

"Tell us the plan," she said.

"I have to tell Manning alone. _Mijita... _there's too much information. Too dangerous for you."

Todd was short on patience so he got to his feet, "Just fuckin' say it."

Rolon sighed, drank some of that vodka. "Remember that gun runner? Ended up..."

"In the river," Todd added.

"Yeah, well... his successor is on the horizon. A whole new world of weaponry and it's coming to the East Coast. He's gonna flood this region. I know him. Pedro will want to crush him. But here's the thing, This guy wants to deal. He doesn't want to be king like that other dude, he wants to make someone king."

"But Pedro doesn't know him."

"Nope, I do."

"So what's the problem? And how does this shit help me?"

"Pedro doesn't listen to me, Manning. Only you. If you bring this _cabron _to Pedro, Pedro will make the deal. If I bring it to him, he'll laugh me out of his office. This thing is big, huge. We can use it as leverage. Get us out, you get your man. Don't get us out..."

Todd shook his head, "Hell no. 'Don't get us out'... will get us killed."

Rolon shrugged, "Sure... it's risky."

R.J. didn't like the supposed plan. "That's not enough leverage. Moreno won't give a damn about sparing you. Once he hears you both want out, once you use that against him, you're done. You'll give him the info and then he'll kill you both. And your families."

Téa stood up at that, "No, R.J., there's more leverage than that." All of the men looked at her. She said, "I'm representing a Serrano member for murder. I have leverage. I have something that Pedro will not want known. I think he's very much going to want to make sure Todd and Rolon survive this deal. As well as their families."

Todd turned to her, looking at his beautiful wife, standing tall, not flinching, not shaking at the idea that all of them might be blown to kingdom fucking come. She knew everything about him now, knew all his dirty little secrets. And yet, here she was. All he could think was... she's a goddamn warrior. He smiled slightly, a barely perceptible twitch of his lips.

_Sonofabitch._

**… To be Continued.**


	20. Chapter 20

Caged

Chapter 20

_Since Manning's first months in Statesville, Bo Buchanan made a point of visiting him because the kid had it rough, having been dumped into general population with that cursed sex offender status. He wanted to let the kid know, feel, that he had backup. He did what he could, always knowing it was never enough. But this fourth year had been real bad. _

_Bo noticed a severe change in Manning - the last few times they met, Todd could barely hold a conversation, didn't seem to know how to engage with someone outside the prison. He was suspicious, edgy, wouldn't answer questions, wouldn't ask any. He'd rub his noise with the back of his hand, sniff noisy, be crude, rude, and impatient as all get out. Sure, Manning had never been Mr. Polite, but this was different. _

_Once when Bo moved a little too quickly, Todd shot out his hand and grabbed Bo by the shirt, his jaw set, his entire body ready to leap across that table... Jesus, the look in his eyes... mad dog is what Bo thought. He could feel the strength in Todd's grasp, could feel the deadly threat._

"_Manning..., it's just your appeal letter, from George..."_

_Poor kid looked down at what he'd done and sat back. Grabbed the letter right out of Bo's hands. His eyes never lost that look of wild defense. _

_Bo had been bothered with the decline. Very._

_Nora had little patience with Bo's trips to the prison - she said they were dangerous, referring to the long drive and the ever-present possibility of a prison riot, or whatever. Why should he risk his life for Manning of all people? "He could have killed me," she'd say. "He tried to RAPE me," she said. "I just don't understand why you keep trying to help him. He put himself there, he deserves to be there."_

_Bo had little response. Too complicated to explain. I'll be careful, he promised. _

_Once again, Bo took his usual trip to the prison, expecting to see the kid in the usual visitor's room reserved for lawyers. Except when he arrived, he was told Manning was in solitary. Wasn't the first time. Usually Bo just headed back home after checking in with old-timer Warden Paul Jeffers. This time, though, Bo said he wanted to see Manning in his cell. He had a bad feeling about the prison. Heard rumors about mistreatment of inmates, about the prison being overtaken by the inmates, so to speak._

_The guard, Rick Green, had been around for some time. Bo knew him fairly well. A shadow fell over his features when Bo requested to see the kid in his cell._

"_Sir..." _

"_Take me to the hole, Green."_

_The guard continued to hem and haw and Bo got pissed off. "What's goin' on? What is it you don't want me to see?"_

_Green's voice dropped, took a gander at who might be listening in. "Look, we got the junkies down there right now - did a shake-down yesterday. Pulled in the hardest users. It ain't pretty. Manning's one of them."_

"_So what does this mean?"_

"_They're real sick, a mess, you know?"_

"_Sounds like they should be in medical."_

_Green sighed, "Yeah, they should, but I got no say. It's punishment. Policy ordered by the Warden 'bout a year ago. Every couple of months we do the drug shake-down and drag in a bunch of addicts. Like I said, I got no say." Green looked around again._

"_Well, let's have a look. You might not have a say, but I do. I can make things happen."_

_The guard then took Bo on a walking tour of the prison. Didn't have to take the long way. Green seemed to be doing it on purpose. Bo was bothered. A lot. He saw shit happening that didn't sit right with him, just like the rumors said. A guard was hitting an inmate with a whole lot of unnecessary force, other guards just standing around. At another floor, he saw a fight between inmates that was seemingly being ignored by the authority. The convicts were openly congregating in gangs, milling around in some areas that should have been cleared. There was a lot of fear, a lot of tension. And it was coming from both sides - guards and prisoners._

_Bo watched the guard as they went deeper into the prison, Green seemingly unaffected by the general sense of chaos - but every so often, he'd flash Bo a private look of disapproval._

_A large metal door blocked their way and Green brought out keys, "Here we are, Commissioner. The hole."_

_The heavy door opened and Bo was hit by a dank hallway, by the noise of some of the men. There was real agony happening and it REALLY didn't sit right with Bo. Green nodded to the other guards, came to a solitary cell. There wasn't a sound coming from it. There wasn't any light behind the small window to the inside. If Manning was sick, Bo figured he'd be making noise, but he wasn't. Green hunted for the right key._

"_It's dark?"_

"_Oh yeah... some get deprived of light, clothes, regular food - they get just the basics. Keeps them in line, according to the warden. Punishes 'em."_

"_How often do you check on them?"_

_Green shook his head, his voice dropping, "S'posed to be every thirty." Using the massive set of keys in his hand, the guard shifted the lock and pulled on the heavy metal door. No bars here, just thick metal. Like a vault._

_The sharp smell of sickness hit Bo and he put his hand to his mouth and nose, muttering, "Jesus... Christ..." _

_Green cursed. _

_The light from the hallway showed Todd lying mostly on the floor, on his back, his arms stretched upwards, his wrists cuffed to a bar at the head of the cot. He was soaking wet, naked as the day he was born, his eyes closed. He'd laid his head against the cot. Sickness dripped off his chest, pooling on the floor. Blood oozed from his nose. _

_Bo turned hard to Green, "Is this the goddamn policy?"_

_Green cursed, "Don't know what the hell this is. Shit." The guard stepped right into the cell, hunting for the tool on his key chain to remove the cuffs. Once he did, he lowered Todd the rest of the way onto the floor. "Least he's breathing. That's something." Green tried to rouse Todd, slapping his face hard, "Prisoner! Come on, wake up! Prisoner!"_

_Bo knew Manning had epilepsy, knew he was keeping it off the books in cahoots with the lead doctor, and this looked like he might have had a seizure. Bo seethed, sickened by the sight. No matter who this was, inmates are entitled to decent, humane treatment. This wasn't it._

_Todd groaned, turning slightly, curling up. He threw up more and Green hopped back, cursing. "Well... that's the _heron _talkin'_._"_

_Bo spat, "A hundred rules are being broken here, Green! Get the goddamn medics!" _

"_Yeah..." Green ordered someone around on his walkie talkie. Todd continued to sleep, sort of, his legs jerking, his whole body twitching without real awareness other than the popping open of his eyes when the "kick" got intense. The sleepiness is what made Bo sure the kid had a seizure. If Todd was kicking heroin, there is no way he'd be sleeping through this kind of pain. Bo fought a natural instinct to help, but there wasn't anything to do. This was a goddamn crime scene._

_A couple of guards peeked into the room, and Bo turned to them. "You responsible for this? Do you SEE this?"_

_The two looked at each other, guilt over their faces._

"_Why's he all wet? Where the hell is all this water coming from?" He looked around, not seeing any obvious leaks._

"_Shower. They get washed down." The first guard said._

"_What, with a hose?"_

"_Actually, with buckets, sir."_

_Turning back to Green, Bo shouted, "Jesus... this part of the 'new' policy too?"_

"_Guess so, Commissioner. Like I said, I got no goddamn say."_

"_Get me the Warden. I want to hear his defense."_

_Green stepped outside, and Bo got closer, knelt, careful not to touch anything. The cold water, the withdrawals, the stress, it all must have triggered the seizure. It was a miracle that the kid didn't aspirate what with being held up by those cuffs. Would have been long dead even if the guards had been checking on him every thirty. That's a quick way out. _

"_Hey, Manning... talk to me. It's Commissioner Buchanan."_

_Todd opened his eyes, staring at Bo without a sound, a hollow empty look there, a man who'd lost a terrible amount of dignity, humanity. Bo had never seen him this way. Todd studied Bo for the longest time in that half-aware space._

"_We're moving you," Bo said, "Get you more comfortable." Bo looked back at those empty eyes. "This wasn't right, what these people did to you."_

_Todd's gaze moved to the pooling sick in front of him in which his hand lay, and ever so slightly, he backed up. He promptly shut his eyes again. Bo looked his body over, seeing bruises on his ribs, seeing a whole lot of damage. His wrists had gotten torn up with those goddamn cuffs. Healing wounds, older wounds. All that ink. Told a sad story indeed._

"_My god... the hell have you been up to?"_

_Instinctively, Bo lay a hand on the kid's head, looking up, looking for those medics that seemed to be taking forever, "... what the hell is goin' on..."_

_Bo got to his feet and took a picture with his cell phone. Took a few more pictures. He was going to bring down a special kinda hell on Statesville. Green was down the hall, yelling at someone. Bo stepped outside to find another guard, "I want every one of these cells opened up. And why was this man in cuffs if he's sick? How do you expect him to deal with the withdrawals if he's tied up?"_

_The guard sighed, knowing he had no defense. "Manning was outta control, sir. Screaming, punching, kicking, spitting... you name it, he was doing it. Injured two guards, and got the other prisoners just as mad. Can only use the baton so much on a guy. We cuffed him to control him, to prevent him from hurting us, or himself. To show the others. We couldn't hardly get near the guy and because of the water, didn't want to stun him. So we slapped the cuffs on and..."_

"_Why didn't you use a restraint chair then if he was so outta control?"_

"_We needed to punish him. Sir. Had to make a point for the others. And the chairs were already being used."_

"_Jesus Christ..."_

_Bo looked into every one of the cells and it was nothing short of a blood bath. He thought of the million movies he'd watched about medieval times, about dungeons. Some men seemed okay, not in dire straights, but others... Todd was typical. Sick men, injured men, all being deprived of basic needs. Some were cuffed just like Todd, still others were in full restraints, tied to cots and chairs. Goddamn medieval._

_Bo took shots and when Warden Jeffers hit the hallway, Bo laid into him hard. The man was older, tired. Long past retirement age. He walked with Bo, letting him vent, eying the condition of the men. The medics had come. The most in need were being moved, Manning being one of them. Bo shuddered at the sight of the kid's head back, that hair hanging... his body limp like a rag doll as he was plopped onto a gurney. He looked dead. _

_Bo immediately thought of Tea, thinking the kid could use a visit from someone who really cared about him... but Todd had given such specific instructions against it. The only thing he'd given permission for was the obvious, a thing he could not hide... "Call her if I'm dead." On the other hand, Bo thought of Todd's inability to relate to someone outside. Maybe it WAS better that Tea not see him._

_Of course, Bo wondered what had set Todd off so badly - just being in withdrawals didn't sound right. There had to be something else._

"_You've lost control, Jeffers," Bo said grimly. "What the hell is this illegal policy of yours? You'll be shut down for it. And right now, I'm in a mood to make sure that happens."_

_The two men stopped their walk down the hall of solitary and Jeffers shooed the guards away, said quietly, "Look, we have a massive drug problem. Worse than on the streets. The heroin getting in here is higher quality, and cheaper, than what you get on your local street corner. It's a goddamn MESS and I decided to make a statement with the worst users." He rolled his eyes, smoothed his grey beard and moustache. He'd once been the fiercest man in town... Bo was sorry to see his tenure come to this crashing halt. And halted it was going to be._

_Bo had to ask, "How's it getting in? Why can't you stop that?"_

"_Two problems. First you got it coming in regular, in gifts to inmates, returning inmates, thrown over fences, dropped into tunnels... still more is brought in with the supplies. You got it in the women's cooches when they visit, their mouths, in their assholes. Can't search the visitors for that shit, and the drugs are so tightly wrapped the dogs don't pick it up." _

_He sighed, "Here's the rub. Outsiders only account for about twenty percent." His voice dropped to a bare whisper, "Buchanan, the rest is coming in through the guards. I've had internal affairs on it for months and we got nothin'. The flow's only gotten worse. Gangs are all in on it, the violence has gone through the ROOF... and... as you can see, the addiction is outta this world."_

"_You got a drug treatment program?"_

_Jeffers chuckled, "It's a joke. We got the best counselors in the state but when these inmates get back to their cells, get back to the yard, the drugs are just waiting for them. There's no way to get off the shit if it's all just hanging around. I had to do something."_

_Snorting shortly, Bo crossed his arms, "So is this policy of yours working? Has a single user quit because they got chained and had to lie in their own crap?"_

_The old warden sighed once more, ignoring the question. "You got someone down here you know?"_

"_Yeah, Todd Manning. And goddamn it, Paul... I found him handcuffed to his bed, beaten, lying in his own sick, in a cell nobody was checking."_

_The look that fell over the warden's face was dark as hell. "Yeah, yeah... Manning. Of course. He's gotten to be a real _pain _in my ass - I hope you know that. Sorry I don't feel a whole lot of empathy that he got punished today. Whenever the worst shit's going down, I can guarantee that your boy is somehow involved. All roads lead to Manning these days."_

"_Really."_

"_Yeah, really. But you wouldn't know it with how he sits back in the library stacks, or on those goddamn bleachers out in the yard, grinning a shit-eating grin and flashing me the finger. Can't fuckin' prove anything and he fuckin' knows it. He's so goddamn insulated. I know better though..." Pointed a finger at Bo, clearly frustrated. "That is one sonofabitch I cannot wait to get rid of."_

"_Even so, you can't treat the men like this."_

"_I've lost control, Bo. Lost my humanity. The prisoners aren't the only ones dying in here. And for the record, I'm retiring. Gave informal notice last week. The search is on for a new warden. He's gonna be inheriting one hell of a mess."_

_Bo slapped Jeffer's shoulder. "Or she."_

"_Whoever it is... they're gonna have to be a goddamn miracle worker."_

_Up in medical, Todd continued in that half-sleep, not able to talk much, the symptoms pretty much confirming that he'd had a seizure in solitary. The doctor stepped out and came to talk to Bo. _

"_Yeah, your buddy here had a seizure and got himself pretty beat up because of it. Those cuffs really hurt him..." The doctor shook his head. _

"_Is there any medication he can take? I know we've had this conversation before."_

"_He tried - did it on the sly with me - but we couldn't get the right dosage, he was still having seizures, and he finally gave up. Fact is I don't have the resources that he needs. He's also real stubborn. Won't take the risk that the wrong people will know about the disorder so we really can't work on this."_

"_But aren't the fits obvious? Who wouldn't know it by seeing him?"_

_The doctor chuckled slightly, "Dumb luck. Has a friend that helps cover it up, or it happens in his cell, at night, or in places that nobody sees. Dumb luck, man."_

"_And the drugs?" _

"_Yeah, unfortunately, he's been using a long time. Might be contributing to the frequency of seizures - the nosebleed, by the way, comes from snorting heroin - wrecks the membranes. He probably has a lot of nosebleeds. They all do. I talk to him about getting clean, but... he just nods his head and goes right back to it. Just like all the users do. The addict has to want to get clean. Your buddy here doesn't want to."_

_Bo finished and had one last visit with Manning. He stood in the doorway to the sick room, the kid just looking hopeless, lying there in a fresh gown, curled up again. He kept jerking, kicking his legs out, the withdrawals not letting him sleep off his seizure like normal. Every time he closed his eyes, his body would jerk him awake. He was in sheer agony. _

_He looked nothing like the Warden's description. _

_Bo asked Todd, "Hey, Manning... what pissed you off today? What were you so angry about?"_

_Todd looked at Bo, that same deadness in his eyes. Murmured, "Breathing."_

"_That's it?"_

_Staring back, Todd repeated, "Breathing."_

_Sighing, Bo tried to soothe him, saying common words, knowing they'd mean nothing. "Hang in there. People need you home. Alive."_

_Slowly, Todd reached a hand out, pulling Bo to him, and said, "But who're they gonna get? What's gonna be left inside of me?"_

"_Guess that's up to you."_

_But was it? Bo never felt the isolation of inmates as he did that day. Pretty screwed up seeing Manning by himself, struggling with his addiction, having nobody to comfort him, nobody to promise him that life was worth living. No hope of such comfort. Sad thing was that it wasn't just him in that boat... there were fifty other inmates in similar conditions in medical. Maybe more. Men sick and dying from AIDS, cancer, injuries, and host of other things that bring men to their knees. Nobody to comfort them, nobody to assure them they were still men, still human._

_Bo wasn't fooled by Manning's temporary show of vulnerability, however. Never forgot those words of the Warden. Never would. Sometimes he woke up at night to the image of Todd's mad dog stare, Bo caught in that death grip from across the table. _

"_What's gonna be left inside of me? Who am I gonna BE?"_

_Woke up in a sweat, he did._

* * *

><p>The conversation slammed to a halt at Tea's quiet pronouncement that she had something useful from the Serrano kid that might encourage Pedro Moreno to deal with Todd and Rolon and release them from MK. Serious shit. First, Tea Delgado Manning was a Serrano representative meaning there was yet another Manning drawn into the gang war. Second, she was in the information game. As soon as Todd's awe faded, his fear for her shot into overdrive. Bad enough that Jedediah had gotten directly involved in his nightmare, now his wife, his beautiful Tea?<p>

Rolon looked curious at her, interested, nodding his head. R.J.'s face grew impassive, ducking and covering at the obvious risk to Tea, and Jed, well, he caressed the gun in his belt, keeping his eye on Rolon.

Todd's gaze from across the room fell tight on Tea, evaluating her, trying to guess what information she had. They all were. He raised his hand slightly, towards Tea. It was an acknowledgment of her info as much as a sign to stop talking, the latter of which pissed her off. She'd been a lawyer long enough to know when to shut up, when to hold her cards, and it took all of her energy not to rip into him for thinking she didn't.

"Okay," he said. "If we need it, I'll check the kid out." Todd had said it that way on purpose, suggesting the information was with the kid, not her. She nodded, "Provided he's not in prison."

Todd growled, "Prison walls ain't nothin' to me."

"Silly me," Tea snapped.

"What, you think I'm bullshitting?"

"No... I'm just saying, once he goes inside, we'll lose him no matter your ghostly talents. This is a time sensitive matter."

"And I'm just saying that I'm gonna wait, think about this deal that Rolon is bringin' up. Then I'll get to your little Serrano bitch."

"And what does that mean? You'll kidnap him with guns blazing from the paddy wagon taking him to the big house?" She'd waved her hands sarcastically. "Or will you dig him out through one of your many tunnels? Oh oh maybe you'll sneak him out of the prison on one your drug runs!"

"Yeah, yeah... god, why are you such a fuckin' uninformed _bitch_?"

The tension had gotten suddenly so high, Todd's voice so intense, that Tea actually spit out a laugh, saying, "WHAT? Did you just call me, 'uninformed?" and Todd actually grinned, ever so slightly, his eyes lit up with heat because she knew exactly what he was doing. Distracting Rolon from the fact that TEA had information.

He moved nearer to her, "Yeah, uninformed... and I'm gonna inform YOU. Until you scream. Beg me for more... _informing._"

Tea chuckled, bit her lip, "You're a bastard, you know that?"

"An _informed_ bastard."

Rolon stifled a yawn, "_Santa Maria, madre de Dios, _okay, enough with the fuckin' romance. You know, _Blanco,_ I ought to try killing you more often because shit, I haven't seen you so fuckin' turned on... since.. well... since the first time you tried killing a certain someone back in the day. Listen, _hermano, _I want to go home. Today has been worse than goddamn Statesville. We clear with each other? We good? I promise, I ain't gonna hurt you. _Te prometo. _I've seen the fuckin' light... consider me informed."

R.J. glanced at Todd and Todd studied the floor, sorta laughing to himself. Tea shrugged, cleared her throat, and fixed her clothes, adjusted them. Sniffed, crossed her arms, trying to look lawyerly. Jedediah checked his cell phone. Gannon decided everyone was crazy, that he clearly was the only one with a clear head, and walked to Rolon, "Yeah, you're good. You can go home. I have four men downstairs and they're gonna take you home. And they're gonna watch you. Like back in the day. Any movement by you that looks... suspicious... any wrong-way turns, and you'll be back in front of me. Not Manning, ME. And... you don't want that shit."

Todd sniffed, said quietly, leaning against the wall now, "It's okay, R.J., he knows what I can make happen to his baby girl. He won't do anything wrong."

Rolon looked hard at Todd, "You touch my Rose, and I WILL fuckin' kill you."

"It's up to you... _hermano. _Do right by me, and maybe we have a chance at life. _La vida total._ Turn on me, and it's all over."

Jedediah hadn't heard that before, this threat. He looked at Todd, Tea seeing the scrutiny on his face. He was studying his father. Wondering whether he was for real or not. Trying to understand, maybe, what Todd meant. She didn't know either but she didn't take him seriously. She knew Todd - he'd never hurt a child. Not on purpose, not someone so young and innocent. Jed looked at the floor, his hand loose on his weapon. Tea sighed softly, not sure what was on his mind. Disappointment? Sadness? Something. But then it faded and he just looked at Rolon. Who looked right back at him. Then both looked right back at Todd. And Tea found that... interesting.

Rolon nodded, "Of course. I swear on my daughter's life, I will not go against you, Manning._ Blanco." _ Lifted his hands and threw the MK gang signs. "You and me, brother, for fuckin' life. For THE fuckin' life."

R.J. cursed, "Get the hell outta here." He walked over to Rolon, grabbed him by the arm, yanking him to his feet. Walked him out, down the stairs, disappearing out the front door. The door slammed shut. The entire time, Todd, Jed, and Tea sat quietly. Waiting, waiting.

When the quiet came with slam of that front door, Jedediah turned hard on his feet, stormed to Todd and pushed the hell out of him, "What the FUCK, Pops? What are you talking about with Leticia's girl? WHAT THE FUCK?"

"Jed!" Tea shouted, knowing NOW what emotions had been playing behind his features: rage. She moved to him fast, grabbing onto Jed who pushed her away, who pushed Todd one more time, hard in the chest.

Todd put his head back, his gaze cold and serious, "You lay a hand on me again, Jedediah Chant, and so help me-"

"What are you gonna do to me? Huh? Huh? You just into killing kids all over the place, ain't ya!" He pushed Todd again, hard, hard. When Todd hit the wall, he hit it in more than one way. He grabbed Jedediah by the hair with one hand, by the throat with the other. Problem was, he didn't notice Jed's gun. Fast, Jed drew it, shoved the barrel under Todd's chin. Yeah, he'd learned some things from Gannon.

"Let me go, you sick motherfuckin' bastard."

Todd stopped cold, grinned that ugly slash of hate, looked down at the steel aimed at his throat. "Nice."

"Let go of me."

Todd did, and Jed stepped backwards. Slowly, he put the gun down at his side. The two stood quietly and Tea breathed in relief. Put her hand out.

"Can I have that gun, Jed?"

"No," he said. "My father is much stronger than me. I need this."

Tea looked at Jedediah, "Fine, then explain what it is you want from him."

"What do you mean when you say you can make things happen to that little girl?"

Todd glanced between Tea and Jedediah. Looked away, at the floor. "I know people, Jed. Very... bad... people. "

"How can you even say it, think it. Will they kill her? Rape her? Put her in pictures? Take pictures of her being raped? What are you thinking spitting that shit into the air? Into the fates?"

Unmoved by the wrenching pain in Jed's voice, Todd said nothing. He was cold. Tea closed her eyes, knowing Todd couldn't possibly go through with anything that might hurt that child. "He doesn't mean it," she said.

"I haven't heard him say that, Moms."

"Don't question me," Todd growled. "I have to control that sonofabitch and his daughter is one way to do it. He won't fuckin' risk her."

"I don't give a shit about Rolon, I don't know that he won't 'risk her.' I want to know what you're talking about with that girl. Specifics. Tell me... am I the sick one thinking you mean pornography? You just mean you'll hide her at Viki's or... or one of the other whores will take her... or... maybe a foster home... or... is it just me thinking this shit because of what happened with Phillip Manning?"

Todd stood back, quiet, reigning in the defense. The coolness fading, awareness setting in. "Jed..." The breath in his lungs caught in his throat. Phillip Manning had kidnapped Jedediah oh-so-long-ago. Had done just that. Drugged Jed, took pictures of him being molested by other play-actors. Jed, thank god, had no real memory of it, but that bastard FBI agent had found those pictures and showed Jedediah, one afternoon in an interrogation room. Jedediah might as well have remembered. Pictures were just as good. Ask any child rapist. Pictures... are damn good.

"She's the same age as Reese, Pops! What are you thinking? What the fuck are you saying you can make happen? Tell me!"

Tea watched Todd, "Tell him, Todd. Tell him, and me... what you mean. What does Rolon think you'll do? Why is Rolon scared?"

A million things ran through Todd's head, flashing back to his own childhood, to Brandy, to Diego. Todd's other prison kids. He felt all the torture over the years, all of it. It ran over his body, through his mind, like tar. Hot... burning... tar that would keep him encased in the darkness forever. He closed his eyes, the walls and bars of Statesville falling around him. All those people with him, trapped monsters... hours and hours of boredom, violence, desperation. He'd become just another monster behind bars... he'd become no different from Peter Manning, Jessie Horenda. Manuel Carro.

"_What did you say? One more time? I'm kinda deaf in one ear."_

_Laugh laugh laugh. "Any time you got a kid, under five, call me. I got use for them. I'll pay you as much as you want for it. Any time we get a tot, the money comes like fuckin' water."_

"_Oh damn, I got no paper to write your number down. 'Cause I'm in fuckin' lock up."_

_Laugh laugh laugh. ". Contact the technical support and ask for the golden plan." _

_Laugh laugh laugh. _

And that was just the tip of the iceberg. One of those disgusting little secrets of MK business that lurked in the underneath. Not that MK was into kiddie porn, but that this guy just happened to have a shared property interest with an MK head honcho. A guy that found a common interest with Todd behind bars, that damn sex offender mark. "Sex offender" is always interpreted as "child rapist." Todd knew him, saw him in the clubs sometimes. That asshole would tip his head to Todd.

"Like I said, I know people. Rolon doesn't. People will respond to me. All I have to do is ask."

Jedediah asked just as quietly, "So you do mean..._ that_. Who are these people?"

Todd breathed the words, "Nobody you know, beautiful boy."

"If I had more balls, Pops. I'd use this gun on you right now. Relieve all of us. Let Rolon twist in the wind, save Leticia and her baby girl any more pain that you have already brought to them. You are... every bit the sick fuck your father was."

"No, no... Jedediah..." Todd's heart broke, he had nothing to say. His face crumpled with the horror of the moment. "I'm... sorry... you don't understand..."

"What's there to understand? What?" Hot fat tears rolled out of Jed's eyes, "I helped you, trying to get you home. And here you are. Right in front of me. But I don't think I'm looking at my 'angel daddy.' I think you died. I'm out, dad. I'm out. You never wanted me in the first place. Well. I'm out now."

Todd held his hand out, "Come on... I'd never... I wouldn't..."

"Too late." He put the gun away into his belt. Turned towards the door. There in the door jam, he turned to look at Todd. "The big joke in all of this... DAD, Pops... is that beautiful Rose, perfect... _Rosa_ _preciosa... _Leticia's baby girl... she isn't Rolon's daughter. She's mine. Mine."

_Kaboom._

* * *

><p>Bo Buchanan heard the Warden's words in his head once again, "All roads lead to Manning," as he walked up to Rick Green's door this dark evening. The house was a modest clapboard with a peaked roof, painted a lovely sea foam green, a harking back to the glory days of Llanview. He rang the bell and smiled when he saw his old friend in the foyer of the house.<p>

"Commissioner! Welcome. Good to see you. Cold out there, come on in."

He opened the screen door and let Bo inside. "The wife's left this morning for her mother's in Philly. We're on our own. Want some scotch? Got the best."

"Sounds perfect," Bo said, smiling.

The two men settled in the living room, Green pouring out a glass of amber perfection. Green had been "retired" by Warden Jeffers not long after Bo had come to Statesville and learned of the drug policy implementation. Most likely because Green was a decent man. A good man who hadn't liked what he saw in solitary that day. Green told Bo by telephone that sure, he'd answer questions about Statesville... be happy to. He knew stuff that was off the books.

That's what Bo wanted to know.

"So we got a situation that you probably know about. The Serranos-Irish war, killing kids."

"Yeah, sad thing."

"We've been eying Todd Manning in a killing in Statesville... Jessie Horenda. We think maybe he had something to do with it. The killing might be related to this gang war."

Green laughed, deep and low, "Buchanan, that motherfucker was bad news."

Bo smiled, "Which motherfucker, Green... Horenda or Manning?"

Another laugh rolled across the table. "Both of 'em, but I was talking about Manning. I remember that you used to keep tabs on him." The smile disappeared. "God he put us through the paces. Real confrontational, hard, hard... had these kids, these little shit kids."

Green's words took Bo by surprise. He didn't think Green was talking about Manning's actual children. "His workers? Weren't they like... _vulnerable_? I mean, like kids who got raped, whores... fragile men?"

Green was the one with a surprised look on his face this time, "Vulnerable? Maybe when Manning first met them. Commissioner... I watched with my own eyes, Ty Jerome, Smithy Jackson, and those real quiet ones, Joe Rodriguez and Kenny... goddamn, what was his name... oh yeah, McNair. Yeah, I saw them turn on this one big guy and kick the shit outta him. I mean... kicked him straight to medical."

It was Bo's turn to drop open his mouth, "Really?"

"Oh hells yeah. On their own, they were gentle kids... together, they were fuckin' vicious little bastards. Rumor had it the same group near about stabbed a guy to death. Real good rumor."

"Why weren't these incidents reported?"

Green sighed, looked into the distance. Dragged guilt-ridden eyes back to Bo, "Self-defense policy. If a prisoner hurts another one in self-defense, there's no report."

"So when these kids kicked the guy..."

"The prisoner was attacking McNair - pushing him around, getting violent. The other kids jumped in. McNair got his licks in."

Bo shook his head, still surprised as all get out. He needed time to wrap his brain around this. Every time he thought he had things figured out, something else came out of the woodwork.

"Think," Green mused, "... what was that old story... by Charlie Dickens... with the old Jew who used those runaway kids..." He snapped his fingers, trying to remember the title.

"Oliver Twist."

Green pointed, smiled, "YEAH. Yeah... Manning always reminded me of that, being followed around by those shit kids. They were evil, I'm telling you. They'd circle someone... even a guard. Those... eyes... lit up by something... rotten."

Bo drunk his scotch, sifting the ice in the glass, stunned. "Must have always been self-defense. I saw no reports of violence on those kids. Records were clean. Most got out early for good behavior."

"Nobody was gonna say anything..."

A perplexed look crossed Bo's face and Green laughed out loud, hearty laughter, "Well, shit, Buchanan! If you were 250 pounds, solid black man, hard-core gangbanger who could bring down the world with all your animal power... you gonna report that a bunch of skinny kids beat the shit out of you? Damn near stabbed you to death?"

"Nope."

"Exactly. Those kids got away with shit, got away clean."

"Hmm."

"And I ain't even talkin' 'bout the shit they were passing around, the drugs, the cell phones, all that contraband. Those kids carried for Manning, carried all that shit he was pushing. Drove the warden right about crazy. Shit... those kids."

The two men drank some more, Green offering up pretzels and crackers. Bo took a pile into his palm, popping the salty mix into his mouth. Bo's mind was completely blown. A whole new picture of those "kids." Made Brayden Armstrong's retraction... a wee bit more interesting.

"Hey," Bo asked, "... you got any insight into how the hell Todd Manning got to be... so... independent? I mean, sure, he got into fights, he kinda won them.. but really, I don't get him. He was an addict, a sex offender, sorta slender. Warden Jeffers made it sound like Manning was a king in there. How's that possible? How'd he do that?"

Green shook his head, whistling... poured himself another glass. Put some ice cubes in the glass.

"How he did it. He was a tough bastard who wouldn't go down, that's what it was. Bo, I saw that kid get into fights with the biggest, the baddest... and they'd pound him, but he still fought to the death. I swear to god, he'd reach beyond his own coffin for one last shot. Only thing that saved him was the authority, dragging him to solitary."

"Yeah, that sounds like him."

Green laughed, recalling something, "The first day Manning got in, he showed his colors. I'm talking first DAY, first HOUR. I walked him to his cell. Fresh as a daisy he was, but he'd been in Statesville before, so he walked the walk. He knew HOW to walk to his cell with his shit in his hands, warning folks not to mess with him. Still, though, he was fresh fish. I had no hand in the cellmate sitch so I walk him, and I see his roommie. Big bad-ass white supremacist, Aaron Grant, I think was his name. I know it's gonna be bad but there ain't nothin' for me to do except show Manning his cell. And maybe get to him later."

Bo hadn't heard this story so he listened carefully.

"Manning just walked on in. I stepped away, went to my place. First thing Manning does is try to get on that top bunk. Five seconds later, Aaron pounds him to the floor, lands right on top of him. Now, you gotta know, Aaron was like 300 pounds... massive dude. And I saw that Manning couldn't be more than 160, maybe 170? By the time me and another guard get there, Manning fuckin' BIT this motherfucker's tit off... FUCKIN' BIT his tit. Right the fuck off."

Bo near about dropped his glass. "He what?" Horenda's body with that cut-off nipple was screaming in Bo's mind. Screaming at him right off the autopsy table. Goddamn.

"You heard me. Said it twice. Manning BIT Aaron's tit right off. The man was gonna kill Manning by cutting off the air, all that heft landing on Manning's FACE. So Manning bit the shit that landed on him. The whole nipple. What a sight. Aaron screaming bloody murder, bleeding all over the place, falling over hisself, and Manning... spitting shit out his mouth and climbing into the bottom bunk. And you know about the bottom bunk."

"Yeah. Bigger man gets the bottom bunk." Bo laughed, sort of. Stunned again. "Which tit?"

"I don't know... maybe the left?"

"I never saw this report."

Green sighed, "Yeah... we let it go. Aaron didn't want to admit what happened, and we knew that Manning HAD to establish himself as someone who wasn't going to take shit. Part of the game. And personally, I'd been worried at the sight of him. I thought he'd be eaten alive, attitude or not. Like you said, he wasn't a big guy, looked a little too... pretty with all that hair and smooth looking face."

"Not for long."

"No. After that thing with Aaron, after a lot of fighting, his pretty... long went away. Got lost in the ugly inside of him."

"Would you testify about this incident?"

"Maybe."

Bo looked around, did some small talk. Got back to the purpose of his visit. "Green... was Manning a sexual predator? He have... relationships?"

Motive motive motive.

Green nodded, "I ain't proud 'a this. But... shit happens, Buchanan. Manning was part of the game. He had a sheet, it went up for privacy... and shit went down. I heard it myself, I saw that look on his face after. Or saw him sleeping it off..." Laughing darkly, "He must have been real energetic because... shit... that boy would barely move at lights out sometimes. We looked away."

Sleeping it off. That sounded like a seizure. The doctor had said Todd was good at hiding the disorder, that and dumb luck. A sheet... that would be an easy cover.

"Jesus," Bo sighed.

"I told you, I ain't proud. But we thought it was the right thing. We always looked away. Jeffers told us to. Said that men do things to control their environment. He was right to some degree. Rape's all about power. And Manning... he made sure people knew how powerful he was. Those kids... they didn't get vicious on their own. He made them vicious... he taught them that."

"By raping them."

"Sure. Raping them, beating the hell out of them. I saw him... had to intervene between him and those kids more than a couple of times. Like I said... Manning wasn't pretty anymore. After two, three years. He'd gotten real fuckin' ugly. Made those kids angry, made them goddamn mean."

Bo didn't correct him, didn't offer another theory... but Green's view didn't sound right to him. He thought of that kid, Loriz. Diego Loriz. The autopsy showed horrible things had been done to him. He'd been ripped apart inside. And he died. He'd never been a fighter. Rapes had killed his will to live. Bo had no doubt that he'd committed suicide by heroin. He had a feeling Todd was the supplier. Nothing provable of course.

He did add, "Kids getting mean... that helped save them from getting hurt."

"Yeah... maybe."

"Anyone else show up... with nipples bitten off? Off the books? Because my detective did a review and... that nipple thing... didn't show up."

Green hesitated. Looked at Bo, shrugged. "Sure. We saw it. A number of dead... their nipples cut right off. Left in the toilets."

"You think it could have been Manning?"

"No... not directly."

"Like how..."

'I don't know, Bo, nothing I can say for sure. I KNEW he was in his cell when some of these killings took place. Even solitary. The deaths were gang fights, rivals, the usual shit... but sometimes, every so often, there that body would be... a nipple cut off. Never saw it before the Aaron thing. It was like a signature. It was like... a copy cat... or... "

"Or what?"

"It was like people were giving honor to what Manning did. Always made me think... that he was ordering hits but he wasn't connected to any of those people. He was like... I don't know. A ghost. Making people do shit. But never getting his hands into anything for sure. Nothing ever that we could tie him to other than maybe selling a little dope, contraband. He knew how to hook people up with shit they wanted."

Confirmed Manning's information business.

"Why aren't the books showing this... signature?"

"Got me. No reason not to be identified. Other than maybe... the authority didn't want to admit they had some serial killer in the prison. That shit never looks good."

"So you're saying there were quite a few of these... signatures."

"Yeah."

"Last question." Bo drank the last of his scotch, tipping the glass to Green. "Definitely a good one, my man."

Green waited, smiled a thanks.

"Did Manning ever kill anyone directly, that you know of. Off the books."

Green sniffed, looked away. "Ain't proud of this."

"I know. I'm not looking to pcute you. I'm trying to know this person. He's different on the outside. I need to know what he's capable of."

"I didn't like him, you know."

"Yeah."

"But I didn't think he deserved to be... fought the way some did. Sometime after he first got there, my partner had the late shift. He told me, he let some brothers into Manning's cell, to teach him. 'Rapists... need to be taught.'"

Bo shook his head. He wondered if this was Horenda. Bo knew Horenda had done something personal to Todd. Maybe this was it. But Green had said, "brothers." That sounded like African-American. Horenda was Latino.

Green went on, "Well... these guys got into Manning's cell. And they tried to rape him. It was pretty bad according to my partner. Pretty hopeless. But... Manning knew it was coming. He... uh... he had a defense. Had a knife."

"What happened?"

"Manning fought back, cut that one guy up. Cut his throat to bits. My partner said it was ugly. Bobby Hamilton bled out at Manning's feet within two, three minutes. That's how bad Manning cut him. That shit never got reported. I saw the kid in solitary. He just stared at nothing all week. Always thought that's when all his pretty... went down the drain. I walked him back to his cell, and he had that walk back, like he was somebody... and he was. Near about goddamn untouchable. That was the first time I saw people scared of him. I knew that nobody was going to ever rape that guy. Nobody ever did as far as I know."

"People were afraid of him."

"Hell yeah. Like I said... he was a ghost. People stepped on his toes, and they... ended up dead or... _incapacitated_. But he never seemed to have anything to do with it. Drove the warden... right about crazy."

Green sighed, looked into his empty glass. Looked at the clock, at the late hour. "Hard to believe he's the same one that runs that newspaper. With that pretty wife. With those pretty kids. That's the only pretty he got left. Just like so many others I known over the years."

"Yup."

Bo asked Green about Horenda, got some not so new stories about his life behind bars. A real disgusting guy. Bo thought about Tea's viewpoint... that maybe Horenda had gotten his just desserts. Once again, though, he hit a wall. Not a single worker of Todd's could Green connect to Horenda. Not that Green knew of. He looked at that list, shook his head. He shrugged at one point. Tapped Smithy Jackson's name.

"I think he was associated with Los Serranos. Maybe ask more directly about that. I will say this," he added, "I do remember Manning having a real hard-on for that Horenda. And I don't mean it a friendly way. Never could understand the tension."

Bo Buchanan walked away with some thinking to do. With five bits of new information.

One, the cut-off nipple was a signature associated with Manning, a signature applied to Horenda. Two, Todd was capable of killing a man, stabbing one to death. A cold kill. Self-defense... maybe, but it had been overboard. Just like Horenda. Three... Todd had it out for Horenda, but still no motive. Four, get another go at Smithy Jackson - this was the first time Bo heard he had dealings with Los Serranos... which owned Horenda. But the most curious, the fifth piece of information and the most interesting twist to this whole thing, was that those kids were not vulnerable once they got with Manning. They did his bidding. They were his workers far beyond the library. Committed crimes in prison, including a stabbing. Nope, not so vulnerable after all. Sounded a hell of a lot like piranhas. Or those little dinosaurs in that Jurassic Park movie. So cute, so small and delicate... until you got close to a pack of them. Then they ate your face off.

_Goddamn. _

Bo drove through Llanview, up and down the streets, looking at the late-night city. If he'd been in prison, and everyone in that place wanted him dead, would he have become a monster to survive? Or would he have just... let fate happen. Let things... be?

He slammed the car to a stop. Watched Todd Manning walk that walk of his, that unmistakable limping walk, walk a block in the heart of run-down Llanview and turn into an alley. Saw NO surveillance to speak of. Damn it, he'd given the LPD a slip again.

Almost.

….to be continued.


	21. Chapter 21

**Caged**

Chapter 21

_So Statesville had a new warden in town. Shondra Dixon. She brought the National Guard in her first week to clean up. A ton of guards had been fired, new ones hired. New rules, new restrictions, less freedom in any and all associations and activities. All visitors had been prohibited until new guidelines were established. No recreation in groups, "not until this mess is cleaned up." Everyone had been on lock-down or in solitary. Shake-downs were happening every day. Todd disagreed with one of the guards and got thrown into solitary._

_That's when he "met" the warden._

_He had a vague recollection of attacking her. He'd been kicking dope a little because the drug business had been virtually shut down by a new influx of clean guards, and he'd been pissed off about R.J. and Tea, the risks Jedediah had been taking for MK business, the overall fucked-up world he was living in. Above all, his parole got denied again and he was now officially facing a fifth year in Statesville. _

_So in that screwed-up state, this woman, this... woman... she comes in talking about programs and whatever, and he was raw. Bare. Literally, figuratively, and... she reminded him of Tea in a way..._

_He'd lost his fuckin' mind._

_Got the crap beaten out of him for what he did. Beat the crap out that cell. Couldn't calm down. Didn't calm down until the door opened and the guard said, "If you shut up, you can get out." Didn't know why the sudden release, but it worked for him._

_It was night now, and he was back in his cell. He'd dug out his little dope reserve that the shake-downs hadn't revealed. Did the whole thing knowing he'd be dry and sick and unhappy the next day. But he needed it. He'd been in so much pain, his skin, muscles, and bones, and... and... and... his insides had been even more broken. He'd figured he wouldn't be going home, but the reality of that parole denial hit him hard. _

_The dark and the heroin comforted him, soothed his hurts. Not just that. Smithy came down to Todd's cot, and... just... moved into the space. The kid hesitated at first, sitting just on the edge, but Todd found himself needing what the kid offered, not fighting it. Smithy moved like a cat to lay on top of his protector and just held him, kissed him, kissed his mouth, his throat, his neck...and it moved from there. Todd so needed the heat and the stupid, meaningless whispers of that kid. He needed the words, he needed the noise, he needed the feel of skin on skin._

_...it's okay, it's gonna be okay, you don't hurt me, yes, yes, you're beautiful, I know you're good, I know... God yes, yes, you're real, you're alive, Jesus just like that, you save me... _

_He felt his cot move with the departure of Smithy Jackson, waking him from his doped-up, sexed-up sleep. The shifting away of Smithy left Todd feeling the cold air. The kid stood in the shadows, leaning back against the cell bars. He'd no clothes on. Todd glanced at him in the moon's white light coming through the windows, shook his head, not liking his escape from hell getting interrupted._

_Knocked his head back, following the high. Reached up and touched the metal bars that held the upper cot. Reached down with the other hand and lazily scratched his belly, his balls. Grabbed the sheet to cover himself, to get warm again. Tried to go back to sleep. But couldn't 'cause that kid was staring at him._

"_What," he grumbled._

_Smithy sighed, "You're not kicking me. You're not hating me to... to touch you."_

"_Don't tempt me."_

"_What's wrong?"_

"_What's wrong with YOU. Go back to sleep. Unless you want me to hurt you."_

"_No."_

"_Then shut up... you're ruining things."_

_He drifted in dreams, flying with his family. There, in a real dark, in a dark that was safe and pure, he could feel Tea next to him, his Lucia, too, in their bed. He woke up and cried into his pillow when he realized it was just a dream. Sobbed like a baby. He'd so wanted to go home. He'd so hoped the parole would be granted. It broke his heart even though he'd known it was an impossible hope. _

_The kid was too confident though. He climbed down and whispered, "I'm sorry... it's okay."_

_Big. Fucking. Mistake._

_The high had faded to a dull disconnect. Todd looked up at Smithy with that hate he had inside of him and the kid shot back, knowing what was coming and come it did. Todd flew out of that cot and pushed Smithy so hard against the bars that the kid saw stars. Todd sunk down and grabbed the kid by the throat, lifted him and bashed him against the concrete, the kid gasping with the sudden loss of air. He then reached back to punch the shit out of Smithy, for breaking into his pain, but stopped himself when he saw those wounded, tearful eyes. He was such a small person, like Brandy, like Diego, and Todd knew in an instant that two, three hits at full blast... well, he'd kill this child._

_Jesus CHRIST. He was just a kid. What the FUCK?_

_Todd dropped him and stood up, looking down at Smithy, breathing hard still. "I'm sorry," he grunted. "Please don't... please don't try to help me anymore. I can't handle it." The most true thing he'd said in a while. _

_When morning came, so did a guard. A little earlier than regular wake-up. "Get dressed. You have a meeting with the warden."_

"_I don't get to shower? Clean up?"_

"_No."_

_Todd shrugged on clothes, taking a last look at Smithy who was awake now, big eyes staring back. Looked away from that kid._

_They walked and soon, Todd found himself standing in an ornate office, staring down the same warden he'd jumped the day before. She sat behind a massive desk not unlike his in the Sun's offices. The guard left. Todd sniffed, feeling himself coming awake. Feeling his usual defenses snaking upwards from the soles of his feet up to the top of his head. Feeling that hate._

_Yeah, he was awake now._

"_Todd Manning, you've quite a record here in Statesville. Heard you got denied parole this week. Meaning you're set for release one year from today. This is your fifth year."_

_He said nothing, biting down hard._

"_So this record of yours..." She flipped through pages of that heavy file in front of her. Looked up at him. "You're in trouble, sir. Big... trouble."_

_He snorted, laughed a little. "I know, right?" The laugh disappeared sharply._

_She stood up, all six foot of her. She was a beautiful Black woman, hair kept short, makeup light, skin like silk. He hadn't noticed any of this back in solitary. Her clothes did remind him of the way Tea dressed for court, for a client meeting. Power clothes. Low thoughts entered his head. Wondered what sort of underwear she had on. Blinked away the images. He raised his brows, assessing her. Found himself grinning, saying, "What's a pretty girl like you doin' in a place like this."_

_But the momentary levity was just that. Momentary. The smile faded and all that was left were cold, dead... eyes. God he hated this place. He hated everything this bitch stood for. He licked his lips and bit down again on his tongue. Tasted blood._

"_You own a very successful newspaper," she said, leaning on her desk with her arms crossed. Todd looked down her long legs, her skirt just above knees. She wore high heels. He thought of taking one of them shoes and bashing her across the face with it. Give HER a scar on her cheek._

"_You have money," she said, "you're supposed to leave here to return to a loving family. Daughters, a son, a successful and gorgeous wife." _

"_So?"_

"_So..." Her voice dropped and got real fucking cold. "What's a man like you doing here? Raping vulnerable kids, making them deal drugs and contraband for you? What the hell is wrong with you? No wonder you got denied parole." She stood up, nose to nose with him, feeling him, hearing him breathing like a bull about to charge. "You're nothing but low-lying trash." _

_He reacted just as she knew he would. In seconds, he had her in a choke hold, her throat being squeezed by his arm, one of her arms restricted up by her head, her back up against his chest. The two breathed hard and she knew he'd kill her. She could feel the hate running through him. He had an erection now, but she knew... it wasn't to have sex with her. Nothing but pure adrenaline, a hot uncontrollable rush of blood filled with hatred and fear. He groaned with blinding restraint._

_She wasn't a pretty girl, she was an enemy who was going to hurt him. My god, she thought, he was so scared. This place had destroyed him._

"_You don't know anything about me, bitch." He rasped into her ear, "But let me tell you, I'm happy to show you just how low-lying I am."_

"_In one minute," she huffed, "you will be beaten, tazed, and sentenced to solitary for a whole lot longer than a year, if you even survive the next hour. Let go... of me."_

_After a moment or so, he threw her away from him, her body landing hard against the desk. She grunted at the shock of it. Turning around, she righted herself. Seconds later the door opened, the guard looked in, Dixon nodded, and they were alone again. When she looked at Todd again, she saw he was in a barely-contained state of rage, he could barely talk, one wrong move and he'd follow through with every dark thought that was running through his head, consequences be damned. Every muscle was on the defense. A wild... animal._

_Dixon breathed a calming breath and slowly returned to her desk. She sat and poured herself a drink of water. Lifted the glass and watched him, her eyes never leaving Todd. She did not shake, or flinch, or tremble. The water stayed level. She was cool as ice and she wanted him to know it. She drank it down._

"_You cannot live in society this way, Mr. Manning. Your demeanor, your defenses, your fear, create a deadly combination. You're not fit for the outside. You won't last one day. You've been tagged by a newly formed exiting committee as... highly dangerous. You're very likely to kill someone, to commit very serious crimes outside these walls as soon as you step outside. I disagreed based on your history, your... position in society. You proved me wrong just now."_

"_Are we... done?" He slammed shut his mouth, his jaw tight. _

"_No. I want to give you something. A chance, an opportunity. You're now part of a re-introduction program for people like you. People who SHOULD do well, but have been so corrupted by prison that they will NOT do well. Every day for the next year you will spend time in group therapy, one-on-one therapy, classes prepping your for life outside, and... with me. Your library job has been... expanded. Your recreation time has been reduced. You'll still be a part of general population."_

"_What if I refuse?"_

"_You'll get solitary. For the rest of your time here."_

_His face quirked. "You can't do that. That's like, unconstitutional."_

"_I... can do anything I want. I'm the warden."_

_He stood quietly, trembling with that hate he carried. _

"_Today, I want to give you another something. Privacy. A shower. I want you to remember what it was like when you were free. When you could take a long hot shower, and nobody would be watching you unless you wanted them to. There, in that beautiful shower, you can think about the program. Give me a yes, or a no."_

_She looked at his file again, emphasizing its thickness by running her fingers along its pages._

"_A no," she said, "will get you solitary, but you'll be safe there. You won't hurt anyone, and no one will hurt you. You won't be helped much with transitioning, though, and chances are you will be back here after you're released, for a lot longer." She paused, for dramatic effect. "A yes, though, will give you a chance at life outside. A life with your beautiful family and a very low possibility of returning HERE."_

_She got up again and walked to a door across the office, on the other side. She opened it. He craned his neck to see inside. It was a beautiful, marble bathroom. A big tub, a Roman-baths-like shower, meaning it was just the floor and walls. There were fresh clothes on the counter. A real toothbrush, toothpaste. Soap. Shampoo. He looked back at her. Around her, behind her, in the far back reach of the office, he suddenly noticed the doors. French doors leading to a lush garden. The sun poured in through a green house's glass. He'd never been in the warden's office and didn't realize how... beautiful it might be. That there could be beauty in this hell hole._

"_You're crazy," he said. "You think a... shower... is going to motivate me to change my evil ways?"_

"_No, I think a remembrance of privacy will motivate you to want to be who you once were. You had a home, a family, an amazing career. YOU, Todd Manning, were a productive member of our society, drug addiction or not. I think the memory of your life before... will want you to get back to yourself, and away from the animal you are now. The trash inside of yourself that you have so fully embraced."_

_He sniffed, and pain inched its way out from the depths of his soul. Crawled upwards. He swallowed it. "You're fuckin' crazy."_

"_Maybe. Prove my idea wrong. Prove me crazy."_

_Dixon moved back to her desk, opened a file, turned to a computer screen. She seemed to disappear into work. A guard stepped inside and just stood at the door. She looked up, Todd seeming to be unsure as to what to do._

"_Go ahead," she said. "Step inside. Nobody will hurt you, or bother you, for as long as you want. There's nothing in there that you can use to injure yourself or anyone else barring incredible creativity. There are no cameras. Nobody can see behind that door. It's complete privacy. Something you haven't had in the past four years."_

_The guard didn't move. Just stood. Todd cleared his throat and decided... the idea of a long shower wasn't so bad. What's a little water behind a closed door? So he walked inside the bathroom and closed the door. No lock, but the door was good enough. A toilet sat in the corner, and he realized he could go without anyone watching him. Hadn't thought about that in a long time. Strange relief. He looked for hidden cameras, windows, peepholes, finding nothing. It was a big room. _

_He undressed. Turned to look at his reflection in a large mirror over the sink. Jesus, he was a hellish sight. She was right, he was an animal. Trash. He hadn't shaved in weeks, his hair was a fuckin' nightmare. His skin looked... rough, reddened... from the heroin no doubt. He rubbed his face. His body... while muscular, cut, certainly, bore bruises everywhere, a bite on his chest from his stupid-ass desperate... god-so-fucking-desperate tryst with... _

_...not to mention more scars than before. This is what Tea would see? His children? Watched tears run down his face at that sight. Jesus. Shook it off._

_He turned and flipped the water on. Grabbed the toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, shampoo and soap. Stepped into the heat. He washed fast but then slowed in his efforts. He could stay here a while. He put his hands up against the marble tiles and under that showering water, found himself crying like a fuckin' baby again. Goddamn parole board. Goddamn Statesville. Goddamn MK. _

_Goddamn._

_When he was done, he stepped outside the bathroom. He shrugged at her when she turned to look at him._

"_Much improved," she said._

_Shrugged again. _

"_Do you agree to be part of the program?"_

"_To avoid solitary, yeah. Don't have much of a choice do I?"_

"_Sure you do. You always have CHOICE. Every day you make choices that are nothing but your own to make."_

"_Bullshit."_

"_We'll talk more about that. So it's a yes?"_

_He shrugged, "Whatever, sure."_

"_Okay, you start tomorrow. Welcome to your fifth year. Welcome to a chance at LIFE."_

La vida total, _he thought. A complete, full life. Bullshit._

_He walked away, slipping into a regular day of information gathering, MK dealings, and very limited contraband trading. Damn that bitch warden, Todd thought. All day, he could think of nothing but that goddamn shower, the feel of privacy, the feel of the heat for more than five minutes. _

_How that fucking shower looked just like the one at the Penthouse._

_Sonofabitch._

* * *

><p>Armageddon is supposed to happen only once. But for Todd, it seemed to have happened a million times. Over and over, something blew him up inside, leaving nothing but a dead silence and a little more killing of his soul.<p>

The time his mother found him in bed, getting abused by Peter. The night his father raped him at age 14 in front of the only person who loved him. When Marty Saybrooke trapped him into admitting he'd raped her. Learning that Blair had lied to him about their baby. The time he came home after being shot in Ireland and finding Blair in the arms of another man. The moment he realized he was in love with Tea Delgado. Finding a very dead Georgie Phillips, when his past came rushing forward and drowned him in sickness. Watching Tea walk away from him. The crazy that rushed in and made him try to kill himself. Phillip Manning and... well, he didn't even like to think about what happened in that apartment. Seeing Diego Loriz for the first time. The killing of Horenda. A hundred other little deaths.

And of course... the first time he mainlined heroin. Good times. Bad times...

And now there was THIS. Jedediah admitting in that ragged voice of his that little Rose was his own daughter. It took some time for that to make sense to Todd. For the words to clarify. For the smoke to clear. Even a little. Still in a stunned silence, he'd watched Jed walk away, Tea chasing after him. Heard doors slam shut, open up, footsteps on stairs, the front door opening, closing, opening again, closing once more, the quiet coming. Knew there was talking, a little shouting, but mainly... he listened to a disappearing of people he loved.

And even in that awful quiet, he still couldn't stitch this bitch together. Jed never mentioned he had any connection with Leticia. Todd never saw them even share a glance... at least he didn't think they did. Leticia sure as hell never mentioned that she was... that she... at the same time...

Fucking sonofabitch. There was a... a... sickness associated with this, and he tried to shake it off but couldn't, an echo... a shadow... There was a gang-rape feel to this thing that made him more than a little sick. He knew that wasn't rational, somewhere inside of him he knew that, he certainly didn't think about Tea and R.J. that way, but with Jedediah, his son... the ringing of that bell in his head continued. Phillip and himself, Peter and Phillip... himself and his fraternity brothers.

Did Rolon know? It had been common knowledge that Jedediah was Todd's son, but if this child was three or so, that would mean Jed most likely knew Leticia before Todd and Leticia ever began their... connection. Right? RIGHT? He didn't know shit. He laughed sadly. Wait. He never saw Leticia pregnant. If that kid was two, then that baby wasn't even Leticia's?

What a fuckin' mess. He knew nothing anymore. Nothing made sense.

Grabbed the vodka. Plopped himself on the bed. Sat there forever in the wreckage. Drank a whole lot of the Grey Goose because he didn't have what he really wanted. He stared at the light in the corner of the room, a silvery colorful lamp that Jed must have picked up because God knew that wasn't Todd's taste in decor. New Orleans? What the hell...

Did Jed not understand, really, that he would never have hurt Leticia's girl? Course not. How could Jed even think it was anywhere near the realm of possibility? Tea? Did they really think he'd... do that? Make something like that happen? Really? Turn that little girl over to a child rapist? It was absurd. It was such, such the empty threat. He drank a little more, feeling the drunk. Stupid.

His fault though. He'd told them from the beginning... that he was a monster. He said it over and over. But, thing was... he didn't really want his family to believe it, HE didn't want to believe it. He'd hoped all along that Tea would counter every bit of evidence as to his hideousness and say, "No... no... that's not you. See? You're good and decent and worthy of being alive."

But all roads led to him being... a monster.

Sniffing, he got to his feet. He was solid under the table now. Held the wall to keep himself from toppling over. Got his cell out and punched numbers. Called a taxi. Called some more numbers until he tracked Leticia down.

"Gotcha," he mumbled, pulling his coat on. Walked out the door with that bottle in his hand.

Met the taxi downstairs. Finished the Goose. Threw the empty out the window to the horror of the driver. "It's glass... good for the environment," he muttered.

Drove to the Sun. Made his way through tunnels and what-not until he was deep in Llanview and walking the cold streets, way out of the surveillance range, hunched into his long black wool coat. Walked through alleys until it was late, one o'clock in the a.m. when most bars were beginning to shut down.

In that mind-fucked state, he headed to an MK underground club where Leticia was working tonight. The same one where Tea and Jed had followed him. He wanted words from Leticia, the real fuckin' story on Rose. He also wanted his people to see he wasn't dead, especially Pedro Moreno. Wanted a look at Carro again maybe. Had lots of drunk-ass ideas floating in his head, thinking maybe he'd bring Jedediah the dead cold body of that sicko, Carro. Show Jed that he didn't mean what he'd said. Maybe he'd take all the crap he'd been hoarding on that Carro bastard and share that shit with someone. He'd been such a lone ranger on this... but maybe it was time to stop.

Thing was... the threat had been empty! EMPTY. Jed, it was goddamn EMPTY. Kept saying to the chilled night sky...

"I'd never hurt that girl, Jed! Even if she didn't belong to you. Even if she was the daughter of fucking Satan himself, even if SHE was Satan."

Turned into the alley where the aging building stood, where the door to the underground club was waiting to be knocked upon, waiting to be opened. He walked through trash and darkness and shadow-making streetlamps. Looked up the concrete wall at the frosted windows that hid all sorts of shit. Some had lights behind the glass. Shadows moved. A set of hands slammed on the glass and then disappeared. Saw the unmarked door at the bottom level. Took a step closer...

"Manning, where the hell are you going?"

Bo fucking Buchanan.

After a few moments of stillness, Todd turned on his feet, tired, tired at the sound of the old cop's voice. He knew he was slurring his words. Nothin' to do about THAT. "Should ask you the same goddamn thing. Ain't you s'posed to be with your _wife._"

"Shouldn't you be?"

Todd chuckled, rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. Pointing his finger at Bo, he hissed, "Here's the thing... you made sure I wouldn't be. Cracked open shit that shouldn't have been cracked open." The laugh had long disappeared and in its place was nothing but pissed-off-ness. He swayed a little. His gaze shifted up and down, from the cop in front of him to the ground, back up again. He couldn't be seen with the Commissioner. Had to get rid of Bo. Cursed him... "Get the fuck outta here. You ruined everything!" He swayed a little more, trying not to. "You ruined everything..." Dropped his head, wandered to the wall near the door, holding onto that wall.

"I oughta take you in right now. Public drunkenness. Evading surveillance."

"Go ahead... take me in. Put me in jail. I don't give a shit right now."

Bo studied Todd. Wondering where the hell that door led to. Noticed a little peep-hole. Someone was watching Todd. There was something on Todd's face that... well... that sounded like cover-up. Like he was play-acting. Bo sort of laughed to himself. Todd didn't lie well when he was drunk. Bo nodded, "You got it, buddy. Let's go... let's have a chat."

Bo took some steps to grab Todd's arm, but Todd bristled, "I can goddamn walk on my own."

In response, Bo put his hands up, "As long as you do." Todd kicked himself away from the wall, walking, definitely not in a straight line. They walked back down the alley, walked around the corner in quiet until Todd asked, "What do you want, Bo. You're not really arresting me."

"Nope, I just want to talk. I got no wire, I got nothing. Off the record, tell me about Horenda."

"Already had that talk."

"I want the truth this time."

Bo could see Todd shut down, shaking his head, watching the ground as it passed beneath his feet. Pausing his slow walk on the sidewalk, Bo then said, "Manning, you and I both want the same thing. We don't want kids to die."

Todd slowed down. Longish hair still, hanging limp in the cool air. Turned slightly to look at Bo.

"You did things in Statesville to protect your workers who were just kids in a very bad place. You couldn't stand idly by while they got abused. I think... you were even willing to don the costume of the worst kind of sex offender, willing to become a person you hate, for those kids. So they wouldn't DIE. And just like back then, I don't think you can stand by now and watch innocent kids die on our own streets. Right across from your own building."

Todd swayed a little in the cold, his hands deep in the pockets of his coat, his head down still. His mind was working, imagining how this negotiation was going to go, what would happen if he laid it all out for Bo, every sordid detail of the Horenda plot and murder. All he could see at the end of every possibility was prison, his family scattered to the wind. Maybe even dead. Not to mention ...his Statesville kids.

"I can give you immunity maybe," Bo said quietly. "Give you anything you want. Maybe there are names you and I can exchange. Maybe you can tell me a way out of this goddamn war that you seem to be knee-deep in."

A car drove by, clouds parted and a full moon shone down on the quiet boulevard. Todd loved that white light. For so long that was all he'd seen of a night sky. Just rays lighting up barred prison windows. Years of not seeing the round or slivered or pock-marked moon. No man on that moon. No dark and light. No mystery. Made him... look back at Bo.

Clearing his throat, his face hard, unreadable, he said in a soft halting voice, a voice weighed by heavy thoughts, "Even though you've... completely messed up my life in such a short, short span o' time..." He paused. Looked at the sky again. Looked back at Bo. "I don't forget what you did for me, for what you tried to do... for me. I remember you... uh... visiting me those times in medical. And... uh... the job and... getting my uh... _workers_ … to be my cell mates." He glanced down at his leather shoes, at the details, the fine stitching, the narrow style. He could so easily see the canvas shoes he wore back in Statesville.

"I know you tried to do more. I know that I was not able to... to help you... help me."

Bo nodded in the direction of Todd, surprised by his... sharing. "You're Viki's brother, you're a father, a husband. You had bad luck in your life."

"That what you call it? Bad luck?"

"Yeah. Fact is, I didn't think the punishment was commensurate with the crime. You got railroaded." He studied the quiet, listened for changes in Todd's breathing, his stance. Listened for a way into Manning's locked-up truths. But all he could hear, sense, was the city's nighttime traffic.

"Manning, you didn't choose Statesville. You think you did. George told me you wanted to pay for your sins. Karma for other crimes. But... you need to know that you had no chance of getting anything less than what you got."

Todd looked up again, a question on his features. "Ok. I was at the negotiation. You and George tried to get less time, and they wanted more."

After a moment, Bo went on. "But the feds were unhappy with the five years. They wanted MORE. You don't remember... you didn't sign anything until you were behind bars. That deal you made in that hospital room was like water through a net. The feds used your illness to claim incompetence in making the deal. They had a judge throw it out two days later."

"I don't understand."

"The feds... were set on you getting it as bad as it could be. They were set on a trial. It was coming. Evidence was tight against you, your reputation, your condition... everything was stacked against you. Five years was never gonna happen in a trial. You'd have ended up with twenty-five. George and I fought them like crazy. So the five years in Statesville was TRULY the best that was gonna happen for self-defense and that killing you really had nothing to do with." Bo shook his head, looked hard at Todd. "You did not choose Statesville. You were thrown inside like yesterday's trash."

"You didn't tell me any of this. Neither did my fuckin' lawyer. Neither of my lawyers..." He wondered if Tea knew about this near-miss. Back then. Before, before...

Bo nodded, "George didn't want to go against your instructions. Something about you blackmailing him."

"What was your excuse."

"I figured you'd fight harder for your life if you thought you put yourself in prison. I didn't think you feeling like a victim would serve you well."

"Did it work? Your...psychology."

Bo shrugged. "Only you can tell me that."

Todd threw his head back, breathing out hard, throwing his hands out, "Wow! I'm just learning all kinds of shit tonight. Nothing... my friend... NOTHING is as it seems. Is it." He breathed deeply, still drunk as hell. Looked at Bo again. "How is the 'truth' about Horenda, or what you think is the 'truth,' gonna help this war?"

"You didn't just kill him for kicks. If I know the whole story, maybe I'll stop going after you. Maybe... buried in the truth is a way for you to help me stop this war. Or maybe, hell, maybe this Horenda zero victim is just bullshit. Maybe the Serrano-Irish war was going to happen regardless of Horenda getting killed or not. You know things, Manning. I know you do. Maybe you can help fix this in ways the law can't. Or... maybe there are ways for the law to work BETTER with your information... than without it."

The air chilled further and Bo looked up and down the street, amazed at its desolation. Faintly, very faintly he could hear music. The two men gazed at one another. Todd shook his head, "I don't know anything. Not now. Maybe in a few days. I don't know." His last words were whispered.

"I can get you out of MK."

"Jesus Christ. Is this on a billboard somewhere?"

"I know things, too."

"Well then, if you really do _know things, _then you'd know there is no getting out of MK. It's for LIFE." Todd glanced around. "Now get the fuck outta here. Nora will really hate me if you end up dead 'cause of me."

"I didn't know you cared."

"I don't... I'm just bein' charitable."

Bo got in his car, watched Todd walk back to the alleyway, walking in a ragged line. That same limping walk that he'd gotten so early on thanks to being jumped by inmates. He walked with his head down, hunched once again in that coat. He didn't look as confident as he usually did. Maybe the booze, maybe stress. Bo got out of his car, trailing him. Watched him go into that door of that aged building, looking like a door into hell. When the thing closed, the clouds drifted back and the moonlight faded.

When Bo returned to his car, he contacted Henry. Gave him the address of the building. "Check it out. It's one of Manning's hangouts." When he took off, he wondered if maybe, just maybe he'd gotten an "in." He wondered if just maybe... despite everything... Todd had stayed a good and decent person after all.

_What's gonna be left of ME?_

* * *

><p>Todd walked the hallway of the underground club, his coat swinging with that swagger he got in prison. Once again, he got looks but only brief ones. He wasn't the sort of person people liked to look at for very long unless they had a taste for blood. Their own. The music was hot, bouncing, sexy. The smoke was thick from Cuban cigars and cigarettes. The drinks were flowing. Todd moved through the tight crowd, a parting happening, like the Red Sea for Moses.<p>

When he hit the corner table, his people nodded a hello, all full of respect, consideration. He eyed them and looked at what all the celebration was about.

Ernesto was out of prison. The former leader of the Statesville prison branch of MK. He got up when he saw Todd and they shook hands, gave a loose hug. Pedro sat coolly at the head of the table. Ernesto made a space for Todd, shoving away whoever was next to him.

"Good times, _Blanco. _Have a seat, my brother. Where's Rolon?_"_

Ignoring the question, Todd asked, "When'd you get out?"

"Today, man. And look at the party!"

Todd smiled at him, nodding his head. "It's all for you, man." In Spanish, Todd said, "May the women and the rum be plenty." The table laughed and cheered a cheer for Ernesto.

They started talking business pretty quickly, Pedro watching his crew closely. Ernesto had a pretty strong hold on the drug trade from the inside. So he wanted to know right away from Todd who the competitors were, who was moving in on their territories, what was moving, what wasn't. Being the information man, Todd knew that stuff. Knew how to cripple rivals. Caught him up to speed on the Serrano-Irish situation. Caught him up to speed on a major commodity of MK: dollars to Cuba. Much of the money MK made for higher ups went to Cuba. After a while, the drunk was finally fading.

Ernesto, being the new guy, but being a powerful one, assigned jobs to different people based on Todd's info. That's how it worked. Drinks flowed, Todd choosing not to drink more because he needed a clear head now. Needed it around MK people. He didn't notice any particular mad-dog stares, or surprised looks, making him conclude that Rolon really had been acting on his own. Pedro got up and pulled Todd away, pulled him to another table, quieter, away from people.

"I heard you had trouble."

"It's over. Resolved."

"Is it?"

"Shit happened. It's done."

"You off the drug, my son?"

"You gonna protect me?"

"Yes." Pedro clapped Todd on the shoulder, feeling him flinch at the touch. "Don't worry, I have an eye on people."

"Do you?" Todd felt a flash of anger rush through him. He narrowed his eyes at the only man who'd he considered a father figure of late. Twisted as it was. "He came into my house and tried to KILL me. He was INSIDE my house. Inside my bedroom. Forgive me, _Padre_, if I don't feel very goddamn protected."

Pedro sniffed and nodded, "For that I'm sorry."

"I want to know what happened. I want to know HOW THAT HAPPENED."

"Free will. It won't happen again."

"I want to know how many other 'free will' thinkers there are who might have it out for me. How many do YOU KNOW?"

Pedro straightened in his seat, took hold of Todd by the shoulders, "Nobody that I know of is out for your blood. You're MY SON, as much as any BLOOD family of mine. I will learn if you're at risk. _Comprende?"_

Todd sat back hard. "No, no... _comprendo. _You stopped listening to the noise of MK, leaving me to him. Is this how you work? Leave us to kill each other off?"

"Manning... you're losing control. And I don't like it."

"Fuck you! He put my family in danger. That's unforgivable."

Pedro eyed Todd, a serious look on his face. He reached for Todd, held his shoulder, feeling that flinch again at the touch. That told him how bothered Todd was, that he... was scared.

"You're right, our families are precious to us. You're my family, _Blanco_. You are integral to the success of this organization." His voice dropped, "And you're integral to the salvation of OUR blood families by getting us out. Legitimacy."

"You're ain't gonna get shit, neither of us are, if I'm DEAD." Todd paused, sighing, looking in the distance, looking for Leticia. "And what the hell is going on with Ernesto. He's not gonna like you chasing legitimacy. What's your plan on him?"

"I have some ideas. Come to my house tomorrow. We'll talk." He nodded, lifted his cigar and smoked like the fat cat he was. Watching the crowd. The crowd watching them. He bent his head to Todd, "Go enjoy yourself. Go."

Pedro was done with him. Which was good. More to discuss later. Todd got up, needing to get to Leticia. He walked the club. He knew she was here. Didn't see Manuel Carro the child rapist either. Finally found Leticia serving drinks, taking money for speed she carried in her black pouch. Her long black hair flowed like black oil, her dress not much different. Tight... like BP oil on a Gulf of Mexico pelican. She saw him and started to run, but he shook his head at her, "Come here, bitch." Ran her down in the hallway, pressed her up against the wall, "YOU HAVE TALKING TO DO! TO ME!"

Leticia tried to fight him but there was no way. He grabbed her by the hair, by that pretty, pretty hair and pulled her into the bathroom. He threw her inside and slammed the door shut. Pushed her hard against the wall.

She was furious, "WHAT? You found Rolon, you found him! You nearly killed him, you son of a bitch! My daughter-"

"Your daughter... your beautiful ROSE, who is her father, Leticia? WHO?"

"Rolon! I told you!"

"That's a LIE, woman! WHO is her father?"

Leticia was scared, as scared of _Blanco_ as she'd ever been in the entire three years she'd known him. He shoved her against the wall again, just hard enough, and she burst into tears. "Please, please..."

"Explain this to me! I don't understand!"

Leticia threw herself at Todd, holding onto him, feeling all that muscle under his coat, and she talked fast, "It's your son's girl, Rose belongs to Jedediah. Please..."

"Explain this to me! Does Rolon know?"

"Yes, he knows."

"Leticia!" Todd grabbed her shoulders and shook her, "Explain this!"

"We lied to protect Rose, your son, to... give everything to Rose. All the power of MK. If Rolon was her father, she'd be protected. If Jedediah was... she'd have nothing. And I'm so connected here, I couldn't bear being on our own. Jed is so young..."

"But why Rolon? I could have done that for Jed! I could have!"

"Not at the time, _Blanco. _I didn't know you yet... I didn't know Jed was your son yet. All I did know was that... Jed got caught up in a bad deal, and it was just better then for him to be alone. We pretended Rose was Rolon's just to protect her. It's all so stupid now..."

"What did Jed get caught up in?"

"I don't know." She wiped the tears off her face, but they kept coming. "I don't know what it was. But it was bad."

"Shit." Todd sighed, stood back, looking at Leticia crying her eyes out. "Rose is my... my _granddaughter_," he growled, "You've been with me... and my son... what the hell were you thinking. You should have told me."

"He and I haven't been together for a while. I didn't know who he was to you, until after I met you, until after you and I... It's not like that." She sniffled, "He's young and sweet... and... deserves much more than a whore for a wife."

"Where is she?"

"Rose?"

"Rose. Where is she?"

"Why?"

"Because you're right, she deserves more than a whore for a mother. I'm gonna get her. She's my family. She's not going to stay in that hell hole of an apartment for another minute."

"_Blanco..._ don't do this."

"You _entertain_ in your apartment... three feet away from where she SLEEPS. You lose, Leticia. YOU LOSE. Where is she?"

"She's at my place... Jedediah is there, but... but..."

He turned on his feet, and Leticia's mouth dropped open in horror, panic... "No... no... NOOOO!" She followed him, threw herself at him, hitting him with her fists, everyone looking. "Please don't do this!" He turned and grabbed that hair again, bringing her close to him, "You're a whore, nothing but a whore. You don't deserve MY Rose."

Tossed her back, stalked the hallway... Leticia ran to him, grabbed the front of his coat, "Don't you dare, you bastard! Don't you dare!"

He didn't feel anything for her tears, he didn't care if he was starting his own war with Rolon, he was going to collect his Rose, goddamnit. Snap some sense into Jedediah. He was going to do it, if he hadn't walked into a war outside that bathroom.

When Todd grabbed Leticia by the shoulders to yell more at her, he saw something come through the dark, zipping past him, before any sound hit him. And right before his eyes, Leticia's head got knocked back, blood splashing outwards, behind her. A shot between the eyes. Her body dropped like a rock. Todd flipped around...

Looked at the biggest Serrano motherfucker heading his way. A gun stretched out at the end of the bastard's arm. He'd just blown Leticia's head off without a thought. Screams started going off behind him, shots firing. The bastard just smiled at Todd.

"Welcome to hell, _Blanco."_

Yeah, Todd would have headed to Leticia's place, if the Serranos hadn't decided to take out the MK leaders in their very own club.

_Bang, bang._

**To be continued...**


	22. Chapter 22

Caged

Chapter 22

The seconds moved like molasses. Todd saw Leticia go down, the blood flying out the back of her head, that beautiful hair flying back with the blood. She flew, dropped, sank out of his hands and he turned around hard, knowing the bullet came from behind him. Found himself facing a monster of a Serrano soldier holding a pistol in his hand, some kind of silver beast. The sonofabitch just stood there, grinning, same silver on his front teeth, while all hell broke loose in the club. Todd knew the guy would fire the gun again, and he knew he'd get hit in between the eyes just like Leticia.

"Welcome to hell, _Blanco."_

The guy knew Todd and wanted him dead. He took a breath and in those microseconds, total clarity rushed down on him. Like life itself was suddenly written in words a child could understand. The light of GOD shined brightly in his heart, angels sang from above, the fires of hell burned below, and in that exalted state, one word flew through him...

"Shit."

Anyway, microseconds of God-inspired clarity passed him by and Todd took out the Serrano by first hitting the wall to the right, getting the guy to fire and miss, pissing the guy off. Then Todd took that moment to ram the Serrano's belly while at the same time grabbing the wrist with the gun in it and force-aiming the gun towards the ceiling. The soldier didn't expect Todd's weight and power, the two crashing on the floor of the entrance hallway. Todd heard the Serrano bastard grunt with the shock of the fall, the gun still tight in his hand. Just at that moment, people started flowing past them, scrambling for the exit. Tripping. Screaming.

Beyond the Serrano, Todd spied the bodyguard, one of their Jamaican partners lying dead on the floor. The door flew open and a rush of cold night air met Todd's face. Sitting up, he used every ounce of strength he had to smash the guy's face, then grabbed that hand with the gun in it and bashed it over and over against the floor to loosen the weapon. But he was a big motherfucker, and didn't seem to feel Todd's hits. With his free hand, the guy just reached for and hit Todd right back, throwing him into the wall. The gun got aimed right at Todd again, but goddamn that fucking thing stuck... no bullet at the click.

"Bully for you," Todd chortled, getting on his feet, taking a step and kicking the hand with the gun so hard the gun finally flew back.

"You gonna pay for that!" The Serrano was mad again, like a goddamn bull. He turned to look for the tossed gun, getting on his hands and legs, but more desperate club-goers got in his way. Todd took the gained seconds to ram him again with his whole body, smashing the Serrano into the other wall, he himself getting on the floor. Todd reached for the gun himself, but the Serrano gave him a mind-numbing kidney punch, then hit his cheek, Todd on his back now. Seeing past the stars in his head, he used the heel of his hand to break the Serrano's nose, the guy howling, just seconds enough for Todd to reach back and get the goddamn gun.

Lying on his back, gun in his hand, the Serrano started to grab Todd's legs, pulling him closer, closer...

Todd brought the gun around and without hardly looking, locked eyes with that Serrano and shot that bitch. The bullet flew out the gun with such a motherfuckin' bear of a blowback that only the top of the guy's hair got hit. It burned like hell though 'cause the Serrano's hand flew to his head and he literally howled like a wolf. So Todd re-aimed because the guy was now real angry, blinded by blood running into his eyes, and grabbing with monster hands. More molasses beats, but Todd had the gun so no angels started singing.

With two hands, muscles tight, he held that piece in place as he aimed low and fired off two more shots. _Bang, bang..._two bullets blew through the guy's chest and throat, arterial blood spraying Todd in the face as he groaned, "Fuck!"

The Serrano fell harder than Leticia did. Todd collapsed back, wiping his face with his coat sleeve, but knew he couldn't lie there. The crowd had lessened, the screams died down. The hallway was empty. Gun shoved into his pocket, he got to his feet and ran to Leticia. He had to know... hey, it's Llanview and fucking miracles happen. He dropped down and checked her for a pulse, his own heart beating too loudly to really sense anything. But her eyes were open, the hole in her head bigger than quarter, and she was cooling already. His heart sank, she was dead. No miracles today.

"Christ..." He closed her eyes and bent down... kissed her cheek, trying not to think of her as a mother to his grandchild..._no, no, no_. No time to ache for something he'd only barely begun to understand. He glanced up from his crouched position. There were yells coming from the main room. Shots being fired every few seconds. He stepped over Leticia, headed into the hell.

The music never stopped. Thumping hard-core Latin rap music added to the ring of the fired beast, busting Todd's head. He pressed himself against the wall, and peered into the darkened chaos. Tried to visually untangle who was who. Gun in his hand now, he slid closer, deeper into the room, huddled against the wall. Through the shouting men, he saw Pedro lying under a table, but couldn't tell if he was dead or not, and goddamn Ernesto... fuck... Ernesto's insides were plastered against the wall. Nothing but red... red... there were two others he recognized that were gone.

His other brothers looked like they were getting the best of the Serranos though... sweating hard, fighting hard. Nothin' but hard-core holdouts left. Todd lifted the gun and aimed, in the event the MK soldiers couldn't overpower the Serranos. He didn't want to fire though, 'cause this wasn't his... _forte_. He hunched down hard, to avoid a final flurry of bullets in his direction. But then they stopped... and people started running again. Shouting directions, orders. Any Serranos still alive were getting the hell out of Dodge. He was pretty sure he heard sirens now. 'Course, could have been bells in his head from the gun he fired. Todd shoved the piece into the pocket of his coat.

Now, there was nothing but an eerie quiet beneath music still banging away, the groans of wounded men and women, and an unidentifiable number of dead Serranos and Mambo Kings.

A fucking blood bath. This meant... Serranos were now officially in a war with MK.

Todd slid to the floor, breathing hard, the gun heavy and hot despite the wool cover. Looked up at a bloody, panting Rolon Lopez. Must have arrived when Todd had been chasing down Leticia. This meant the Jamaicans were around. R.J?

"They got Ernesto," Rolon said, "Frank, Cruz, Santos, Luis... Jesus Christ..."

"Pedro?"

"He's okay..."

"Rolon... they got Joe at the door... and... and..." He looked down at his hands, his voice caught in his throat. Looked at his hands that had just been holding Leticia by the shoulders. Looked up again at a worried Rolon, "They got Leticia, _'mano._ She'd dead. Out in the hallway."

"Motherfucker..." Turning, Rolon walked like a zombie, disappeared into the dark of the hallway. Todd could hear him yell, curse. But sirens really were coming and he ran back inside, his face a mask of shock. Like Todd, no time to ache. People standing, Pedro too, started moving fast towards the back exit. The injured... well, it was protocol to leave them if they couldn't be walked out. Todd got to his feet and grabbed someone struggling. A quick once-over proved him to be MK so he kept hold onto him. Every ambulatory MK soldier hit the back exit which led to an alley about a block away.

Todd huffed as he walked foot to foot with Lino, a young kid who thought belonging to a gang was his only way out his own hell. Todd pulled his cell phone out and tried to dial but he couldn't see the numbers. Felt a little light-headed. The stress... the fear... he got scared a seizure was coming so he just kept walking until he hit the alley, just willing himself to keep going. Cars started tearing away, people scrambling into the city, through doorways in the alley, down other alleys. The police were screaming on the bullhorns that block away, sirens resonating against the walls of the buildings, making it sound like it was right in front of him. He started to get real disoriented but saw Rolon yank out his keys and unlock a door to his beloved 1965 Cadillac De Ville. He must have gotten away from R.J.'s people.

He tumbled into Rolon's car, into the back seat along with Lino, watching the dusky sky through the window. He closed his eyes, not wanting to think about what he'd just left behind. The bodies strewn on the dirty wood floor of the MK club, Ernesto's body. In the rear-view mirror, Rolon and Todd eyed each other, thinking the same thing they always thought back in Statesville when shit went down, the thing they always said to each other under their breaths.

_Those fucking gangbanger kids._

"Drop me at the Sun, Rolon... drop me there."

Rolon nodded and when they hit Todd's building, the car screeched to a halt, Todd tumbling out on the driver's side. He slapped Rolon on the shoulder, eyeing him seriously. "Talk in a bit, yeah?" The guy nodded to Todd, looked back at Lino, and slammed the gear back into drive. Todd knew they were heading across the river, into the industrial section of Llantano county, pulling into yet another MK hangout. The one where the doctor lived.

* * *

><p>Once upstairs, collapsing on his desk chair in his darkened office, Todd sighed, sunk into the leather. Dawn was threatening to break through the night sky but hadn't done it yet. The windows would stay dark until he hit the button to let the sun in. He covered his face with his hands. The gun in his pocket weighed on him.<p>

"Goddamnit...shit..." He sat for some moments in the quiet, breathing deep to quell a bad case of the shakes. A delayed reaction.

Pedro's number lit up his phone. Todd grabbed the phone and growled, "The fuck happened? Huh? What the FUCK?"

"We have trouble on our hands."

Hissed, "Ya' think?"

"_Estás bien?_"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but Ernesto... not so fuckin' much."

"Yes, _ese __coño_... he made some goddamn enemies inside."

"This is on him?"

"Yes...he warned me about it some time ago. I thought... _pues..."_

"Fuckin' idiot."

"Look, we got orders from up top... to hit them just as hard."

All Todd did was growl.

"I want logistics, _Blanco._ Tell me where the stakeholders play."

"You want me to set up a slaughter? You shittin' me?"

"We got no choice. This can't go unmet. So...give me the information... do what you do best, _mi hijo bastardo._ Do it. What I do with the information is not your problem."

Todd cut the call off, roared, "GOD...DAMN!" and threw his phone across the room. Sat quiet, huffing out hard. Reached for a cigarette from a pack of Camels on his desk. Flipped the lighter, the fire blasting light on his blood-stained face, lighting the cigarette. As he breathed in the harsh tobacco, he raised his light eyes full of darkness and looked straight at the woman sitting on his couch. Heard her voice in the deep dusky dark... calm, cool... a real shark. Tea.

"What does he want from you? What does that bastard want from you NOW?"

* * *

><p>Tea had chased Jedediah out of the Penthouse, down the elevator, cornered him in the parking lot. "Talk to me!" She'd yelled at him. "Don't you drop something like that and then run! Talk to ME!"<p>

He pulled her into his Mustang. Hit the road. Spilled the whole kit and caboodle in a hurried, strained voice as they sped through Llanview, crossed the river. Heading to Leticia's place, Tea recognized.

"About a year and a half before Todd got out, I told you, I learned about MK. I learned what he did for them...for himself. I helped him when I could."

"Helped him?"

"I made drops of … products... information."

Tea slammed tight her jaw, her hands in fists... heated rage at Todd's bringing Jed into his life. Jesus...

Jed saw it, reached to hold her hand, "Moms... it was my choice, not his. He fought me every step of the way. Fought me hard, but I made him take what I had. Ok? It wasn't him, it was ME."

"Go on." Her voice was dark, tight.

"Well... in hanging around the fringe, I kept running into Leticia. We became friends... and well... she... uh... we... uh..."

"Yeah, yeah... okay, you knocked her up."

"It was stupid. She had the baby though. But by that time, I got into trouble. Found myself holding information that was a little too hot and that made me vulnerable."

"Vulnerable to who?"

"The Irish Dirty Riders. If they got my name, they'd not just kill me... but everyone I loved... and that included Rose. So when Leticia had the baby, she put Rolon on the birth certificate and got all of us 'protection' from Rolon."

"So Rolon knows that Rose isn't his."

"Yeah, yeah... of course. It's been like that ever since."

"You still in trouble with the Riders?"

"No... shit faded away. As far as I know."

"Why didn't you tell me... or your father?"

"I didn't want him to know how I screwed up - didn't want him to feel responsible for what happened. I knew he would. And it wasn't him, it was ME."

"My god... Jed..."

"Yeah, well, then when he got out... and I then picked up on him and Leticia... and it was weird... she'd forget that he was my dad...tell me... things..." His voice trailed off, and he looked over at Tea who shook her head, looked out the window at the passing lights and shadowy city. He sighed, "I'm sorry about her... and him. You must hate him a whole lot."

She said nothing other than... "It's the heroin. She's... part of his addiction to drugs. Isn't there some other woman?"

It was Jed's turn to say nothing other than... "Yeah." In a quiet voice, he added, "You must hate him... you SHOULD hate him... but..."

She sighed hard, a loud tired, aggravating noise... "Look, I... um... the only thing I _must_ be doing is... confusing you. Terribly."

"You were with him tonight... like... I saw you guys for a second."

"I know. It's very hard to explain."

"You love him. I get it. Thin line between love and hate. Real thin."

"No. It's beyond that. It's... darker than that... it's... brighter than that. It's like the sun's heat. What we feel for each other both feeds us, and kills us. It's also a lot simpler than that."

"You're talking in riddles, Moms."

"I was with R.J. when Todd was in prison. He learned about it. He knows about it."

Jed slammed on the brakes, pulling to the side of the road. "WHAT?"

"Don't make me say it again."

"Tea!"

She sighed... "You didn't know?"

"No!"

"Well, then, yes. R.J. and I were very much together. I considered divorcing Todd and marrying R.J. But then... your father got out and the moment I laid eyes on him, the moment he looked at me as he walked across that parking lot... walking that walk, that gray hair, that cut face... after five years of not seeing him... when I looked into those eyes of his...I realized I could not EVER leave him. I realized he wasn't just in my heart, but part of my SOUL. I cannot CUT him out of me just as one cannot cut out one's own beating heart and still live."

"Jesus..."

"Maybe I feel Leticia, and Jovanna... maybe I feel they are tit for tat. I was with someone else while he was locked away, unfairly locked away, I might add... so maybe I feel like I cannot say much in _offense_. But... whatever... don't worry about me. I'm going to have to deal with it. He and I really haven't seriously discussed what's going to happen with his drug addiction - we fought about it, but... we haven't sat down and actually decided what happens... if he cannot stop using. The game is up, so to speak."

Jed took off again... kept saying, "Jesus..." under his breath. The light went on in his head. This was why Todd hated R.J. so much, this was why they had such a tense "friendship." Why R.J.'s face looked so drawn whenever Todd's name was mentioned, more so when Tea's name was mentioned. Why R.J. protected Jed so much, like... like a step-son. He loved Tea, so he loved Tea's children... step-children included. Fuck.

They arrived at Leticia's place. Spelled the sitter, like he often did. Spent the longest time looking at beautiful Rose sleeping in her little bed. No wonder Tea thought Rose belonged to Todd. She looked... like Jedediah. Golden hair... creamy skin... she was sure Rose had hazel eyes.

Hours later, sitting with Jed, talking heart-to-heart, their phones went off. R.J. calling one then the other. Told them bad shit went down in an MK club... and _where the fuck is Manning_?

Tea took Jed's car and despite Jed arguing like a sonofabitch... she took off to the Sun. Call it instinct. Call it premonition. Call it whatever you want. She walked into his office and sat there in the dark. If he was dead, she wanted to be surrounded by his things. If he managed to escape the shootout she figured he'd go to the place where he always escaped surveillance.

She'd smiled to herself, held in panicked relief, when he slammed open his office door and collapsed in his chair. When he cussed and threw his phone, she knew he wasn't wounded. He was alive. And kicking. But clearly, he'd been at that bloodbath.

There in the dark, she could have sworn she smelled blood.

* * *

><p>He breathed out and fell back in his seat. The dark enveloped the two, a willowy ocean of gloom. In a soft, heavy voice, Todd asked, "What are you doing here, <em>mamita rica<em>?" She smelled the smoke and watched that burning ember brighten and then fade away.

"Is this place bugged?"

Todd snorted, shook his head, "No... have it checked every so often."

"R.J. called us, told us there'd been a shooting."

"Us."

"Jed and me. We were at Leticia's place. How bad was it?"

He didn't say anything, just puffed, finally smashing the thing on his palm, not a sound coming from him at the little pinch of hot pain. He lay the butt on a plate with a day-old donut. He picked up a remote and let in some of the dawn's light just as Tea came up to him. She touched him under the chin and lifted his face up to her. A small gasp came from her at seeing the blood up close. Stepped back. She'd smelled blood all right. He tried rubbing his face with his coat sleeve, tried to rub the red away.

"Leticia's dead," he said, sniffing, giving up his efforts at cleanliness, "along with a few other MK men, women. Serranos are dead too." He took the gun out of his pocket and it thumped fat and heavy onto to the dark wood of his desk. Tea found herself dull, far away, thinking through a rather unethical lawyer's approach: clean him up. Wash his hands of gun residue. Ask about records of his coming and going into the building. Ask for witnesses. Who saw him at the shooting? Is there anyone they need to kill? She laughed inside of herself, a little hysterical, like this wasn't her. Like she wasn't looking at her beloved's worn face streaked with someone else's blood. Or was it his own?

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"No."

"Is this your gun?"

"No. Belongs to the Serrano sonofabitch who... _Christ_... killed Leticia..." His voice got ragged at the end of the sentence.

"And the blood...?"

"Same sonofabitch."

"What happened?"

He shrugged, shook his head, stared spacey at the gun in front of him. "We were in the hallway of that same MK club you were at. She told me some story about Jed, and... I was mad. I told her I was taking Rose. That I was gonna get that baby out of her place. She... _entertains _there-" He paused. "She_ entertainED... _in that place, Tea... with Rose in the next room. I wasn't wrong!" He looked up at Tea, with haunted eyes. "She was in my hands, I was holding her...shook her to get her to shut up. And suddenly... she was gone." He reached for the gun, spun it around... "I fought with the guy who did it. I killed that motherfucker with his own piece. He knew me. Was going kill me. He...and all his buddies... were after MK."

Tea crossed her arms, shivering suddenly, the office seeming terribly cold. "Self-defense," she said.

He shrugged.

"Clean yourself up... and... give me the gun. And according to what police know... where have you been all night?"

"I've been here. Cameras, everything will show me coming in...and never leaving until...I leave out the front door. Except..."

"Except what?"

"I kind of ran into Buchanan outside the club."

Tea made a sound of aggravation and turned to walk away but he grabbed her wrist, "You okay?"

She gazed at him, "You're alive. I'm glad. But this MK business has to end. Do you understand me? You're going to have to choose between THEM, and me. And by 'me'... I mean your children, too." She yanked her wrist away from him. She closed her eyes, held in her tears.

"Don't say that."

"Are you kidding me? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" She breathed hard to collect her nerves. Todd had gotten up, came up behind her.

"Shhh... I'll do something. I'll finish this. Don't tell me you're leaving. Just don't do that to me."

"I can't do this right now, while you're covered in blood. Get cleaned up. Please. I suspect the cops might come pouring in here any minute, especially if they get wind you're here."

* * *

><p>The underground club looked like a bomb had gone off. Tables turned over, broken plates and glasses littered the floor, clothes, too. Blood decorated the walls and floor, bodies under tarps lay about, the wounded in the process of transport. Bo Buchanan and a goodly chunk of the LPD milled through the mess. The coroner had arrived, witnesses were being interrogated, police photog was taking shots. Nobody would say a thing.<p>

"Just those dead men. Do they belong to a gang? Yeah, I'm MK, so what... those bastards just wanted to shoot us up. Musta shot themselves. We didn't do shit. Sitting ducks."

And so on and so forth. Nobody knew who shot whom.

"So now _Los Serranos_ are fighting the Cubans," Bo cursed, turning to Henry who was taking notes on his notepad. "All the healthy ones ran out the back - that hallway leads a long ways away from here." He looked around, knowing this place couldn't be up to code. He remembered that this was where Todd Manning had been headed. Had watched him head straight back after he'd left him last night. Sighed heavily. "Henry, I'm gonna pay Manning a visit. Don't tell anyone where I'm at."

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Nora, told her it was going to be a long day. As he walked out the front door of the MK club, he saw a delicate woman being dumped onto a gurney. The coroner zipped up the bag. The blood pooled on the floor and he shook his head. Damn waste is what it was.

* * *

><p>Todd looked in the bathroom mirror and looked away fast. Sure he was clean now, but he felt that blood all over him. When he stepped outside the bathroom, Bo Buchanan stood in the doorway to his office, Tea calmly sitting at Todd's desk, sitting back, holding a cup of coffee. The sun shone brightly through the now-open windows.<p>

"Where you been all night, Manning?"

"Commissioner, I've been right here. After our little _tête_-à-_tête_ on the street last night. Came right back here. Tea and I... haven't been getting along. So I spent the night here."

Bo looked at both of them, "Cut the crap. You were at that club last night, you were at the shooting. Good to see you still walking, can't say the same for some of your... people."

"What people? I don't have any people in any goddamn club."

"Right. Well, I got shots of your tattoos that say different."

Tea sniffed loudly, straightening herself in her seat, "Okay, Bo, enough. No more questions, he isn't saying a thing. You know the rules."

Bo shut the office door and wandered to the couch. Sat down heavily. "Talk to me, Manning. Off the record. Totally, completely, off the record. Help me fix this. We got two, count 'em, TWO goddamn war fronts."

Todd snorted a derisive laugh, moving to his collection of whiskey bottles. He poured himself a shot without offering it to anybody. Drank it fast. Sniffed. Kept his back to Tea and Bo, watched the dust motes dancing in the sun in the corner of his office.

From the couch, Bo found himself pleading with his old enemy, "Kid, I know it was bad inside for you. I know that. I saw you enough times to know the extent of 'bad' that you faced for those long five years. I know you needed help beyond what anybody outside could do for you. I don't blame you for being associated with the Mambo Kings."

"You don't understand anything, Commissioner."

"Enlighten me."

Todd turned his head, hands on the counter in front of him, leaning now, burdened. Looked at Tea a moment, landed a hard gaze on Bo. "I can't help you. I'm in too deep. It's all... planned. Set up."

Both Tea and Bo got puzzled expressions on their faces.

Sighing, Todd poured more of his favorite out-of-this-world-expensive scotch. Drank it down, slowly this time. Closed his eyes as the heat ran through him and into his head. Swayed a moment from tiredness. Could fall asleep any moment. What he wanted most right now, was some fuckin' heroin. Straight into his veins... goddamn it. For a good few minutes there, he was going to do just that. He knew where to go, who to go to. They'd give it up real quick. He'd dose up real good...

Hell with everything.

* * *

><p><em>It had been a hard day, you know. He'd set it all up. Horenda was going to die. You know? Fuckin' destiny. The kids... they were ready, willing, and more than fuckin' able. It was going to be so clean, so perfect. The thought of that bastard that had done in Loriz... and so many others... God he was going to pay good. Real... fucking... good.<em>

_Problem was the warden. Bitch was nosey. Had this real way about her. Would look Todd in the eyes and he'd feel raw, exposed. Like she could read every thought in his head. And sometimes she'd just shake her head, just as something evil flew through him. Some dark rotten thought. Like she could READ HIS MIND. He'd look away and continue working. Typing out those reports in her office. Like a real person. With a real job. Shit, she'd done something to him over the past six months. _

_Reminded him of his old life. Made him think life on the outside was going to be... real good._

_He'd have coffee on his little desk in the corner, next to the garden windows. Birds chirping, sun pouring into the room. He'd be typing away, entering shit into these forms on the 1980's typewriter like his own father once had. It was weird, typing on the old thing. Literally punching these slick buttons. A little ball of letters would hit the ink ribbon and letters would appear on the paper. Different from a computer keyboard. Sometimes he'd just type...pressing the buttons, spitting out gibberish on a piece of paper. Click, click, click. Mesmerizing. _

_Warden would gently tap his shoulder in those moments and he'd jump twenty feet. _

"_Where were you?" she'd ask._

"_Nowhere."_

"_Well, try staying here."_

_He'd look at her, "I got four more months of being here after a long goddamn four and a half years. I like to get out whenever possible."_

_She'd laugh. One day, though, she got to him. She gently touched that shoulder and then held him tight in the chair, with that hard hand of hers. "Don't turn around. Type something for me on that little gibberish paper you got stuck in there. Answer me this, little mouse. Who, right now, has the most access to cell phones? Every question you answer gets one crime you've committed in prison removed from your record." She bent close to him, whispered hotly in his ear, "Easy peasy, little mouse." _

_He could smell her perfume. Terrified him. His cock got hard at it. Wished she'd reach down and stroke it. He'd come so fast. Shivered. It wasn't that he wanted anything to do with the warden though. It was the feel of a woman, the smell of one. Wanted nothing more than to bury his head in pussy. Breath that intoxicating scent in... but not this woman. One he loved, so fucking far away. First thing he'd do when he got home. Get inside of her. He hoped Tea had left R.J. Gannon already. Yeah... that would be the second thing he'd do. Beat the shit out of Gannon for getting with Tea. Fuckin' bastard._

_Warden's voice cut into his fantasies. "Come back, Manning." She stood next to him, hand still on him. Perfume still lingering. "Like I said, I'll have crimes removed for every question you answer of mine."_

_He didn't breathe for what seemed forever. Felt his nerves...bubbling, rippling, choking him from the inside. _

"_Like that's going to make a difference," he finally said._

"_Oh honey, you have no idea what you're up against right now. Word is, you got another five years coming. Minimum. Based on charges the D. A. wants to bring you up on. You hear me? You _feel _me?"_

"_Fuck you."_

"_Yeah? Me? The only one who's going to get fucked here is YOU."_

"_What guarantee you gonna give me? For me to risk my life for snitching? Huh?"_

"_You have my word."_

_He laughed hard, and then didn't. _

"_That's all you have, Manning. My word." She looked him in the eyes with those cold green eyes of hers._

"_Get the fuck outta here," he murmured. He wanted to cry. He wanted to know if this was true. Needed to know. Was he really facing more time? Was he? He picked up the phone that she told him he could use any time to call his lawyer. Called George. Prayed he'd pick up. Breathed the question raggedly into the phone. "Is it true? Are they comin' after me for more time?"_

_George had sighed heavily, "They got some pretty heavy evidence against you, kid. Yeah, they want to bring you up on charges. They're looking for ten to twenty."_

"_Will they win?"_

"_It's bad, Manning. Real bad."_

_Hung up. Turned and looked at the warden. Ran his eyes all along the length of her. Turned back in his seat. Tapped a few more gibberish letters, finally tapping out "Dell Givens." Buried it in a bunch of other gibberish letters after. He stripped out the page. She stood straight and tall. He held onto the paper that she held, too._

"_What you taking out of my file for this?"_

"_The fact that you bit off Aaron Grant's tit your first day here. Wiped clean. Every bit of information you give me, I'll take out someone else's tit that got bitten off their dead body... or cut off. I'll lighten the number of contraband and drug possessions, and the claims of rape and assault. Evidence is going to disappear into thin air. I give you... my word."_

_And so it went. Little bits of information got his record cleaned of some of the more... culpable crimes. Serious bad shit that fell at his doorstep. By the time he got out, his record was still ugly, but not as ugly as it could have been. He also had no new charges brought against him. Problem was, that the warden found a vulnerability. That she had suspicions of him, of his activities. Suspicions that if followed up, could have definitely gotten him ten to twenty. At least._

_That wasn't the worst though. Really, the shit he was spilling... wasn't anything._

_Near his very last day, not the last but close to the last, Horenda dead and buried, he was busy in Warden Dixon's office. Typing away. Filling out the last forms. He felt someone behind him and he turned hard in his seat because he didn't smell any perfume. Smelled musky cologne. A scent that sent shivers right down his spine. Same cologne his father used. Coincidental-like._

"_We got an offer for you, Mr. Manning. An offer that will get you out of here free of probation, free of any more jail time. Free to chase your favorite drug to your heart's content. Free of a whole lot of shit that's gonna rain down on you like the wettest, hottest rain of hell you ever known, if you don't cooperate."_

_Sometimes in the dark of the night, he wished he'd just said no. Bring on that fuckin' rain._

* * *

><p>Bo Buchanan's mouth about dropped open. He had to close his jaw tight. Tea stood up from her seat. Her face crumpled in a mix of terror, relief, and sadness. She looked at Bo and Todd. Fell back down.<p>

"When is this going down, Manning?"

"Any day. Any... fucking... day."

"This will end the war."

"Pretty much."

They all rather jumped a little at a hard knock at the door. Todd hadn't had a chance to lay out the rest of the... situation. He called out, "Yeah?"

The door creaked open and in walked a rather slight young man in plain clothes, just jeans, leather shoes, a long coat to fight the Pennsylvania cold. He had a handsome face, brown hair that fell across his cold blue eyes. Todd huffed out, rolled his eyes. Bo and Tea followed the man as he stalked into the room. For being so... delicate looking... he had an air about him that spoke of a real lack of "delicacy."

Tea immediately thought of Ty Jerome, thought of the rifle's barrel, that rifle that she knew he'd have so easily shot, straight at her, without blinking an eye. Todd had said they were dangerous. Bo was thinking the same thing, thinking of Green's account, that those kids, were no vulnerable flowers.

The guy looked around and smiled. "Looks like I walked into something."

Todd growled, "Don't you always?"

"Why so bitter?"

Turning around, Todd poured himself yet another drink, cursing under his breath.

Darryl grinned, and said softly, soft as knife cutting through air, "Hello Mr. Buchanan, Ms. Delgado-Manning. My name's Darryl Warren and I'm an FBI agent. You are now sworn to complete secrecy if you have any interest in staying alive." He walked close to Todd and poured out some scotch into a fresh glass. Drank some of it down. Smiled coldly at Todd. Went on talking to a stunned room.

"I'm not just an agent, I'm also... a former associate of Mr. Manning's. We were in Statesville together. He... uh... 'saved' me from some pretty bad dudes he thought were raping me. They weren't. Welcome you two to the undercover world of Operation _Dead Snake_. Consider yourselves deputized. In case you haven't figured it out yet, your husband, Ms. Delgado-Manning... is our prime witness in bringing down one of the most notorious Northeastern gangs, the Mambo Kings. Before, and after, he testifies against Pedro Moreno and a whole lot of other really bad people, you will have to go into witness protection. Ms. Delgado, you need to start saying your goodbyes to Llanview. And Manning... you have got to get off that heroin before it fuckin' kills you."

Darryl shook his head with a grin that made Todd want to slap those blue eyes black. The man said coolly, "I bet you're really wishing right now that you'd never killed that motherfucker, Jessie Horenda."

"Nope... you got me all wrong, bitch. Just like you always have."

"So what are you wishing... _Blanco_?"

"That I'd killed you, too."

Yeah, sometimes he wished he'd never said _yes_.

To be continued...


	23. Chapter 23

**Caged **

**Chapter 23**

_Daryl Warren had been dropped into Statesville during Todd's last year. The kid showed up, bruised, beaten, sitting unhappily at one of the breakfast tables. Alone, he looked to have no chance. He wore blond hair in a crew cut, he was a mere five foot five, and slender of build. He had no tattoos, and skin soft as butter. His blue eyes were sad and hopeless. The white supremacist groups were hovering, but not engaging. Daryl had guards hovering, too. This was all told to Todd one night in his cell by Royce Jimenez. _

"_And what's it to me?"_

"_I think he got hurt, you know. Hurt."_

"_I don't give a shit, Royce. I am not here to save the fuckin' world."_

"_But you..."_

_Todd bristled, making Royce shut his mouth hard. Getting up, he backed Royce up against the cell doors, hissed in a low threatening voice, "But I what?" Hard eyes stared Royce down. Todd had his hands on the bars, above and around Royce. He was near-about nose-to-nose._

_In a shaky voice, Royce said, "Nothing... it's all right, man."_

"_Get the fuck out before I save you in a way you'll never forget..." _

_Royce scampered away and never said another word._

_Todd then started noticing Daryl, noticing blue pleading eyes, targeting Todd. Todd would look around, like who the fuck are you looking at? He'd look right back at Daryl, giving him nothing but cold. Daryl would look away. The kid would show up in the yard, sitting in the next set of bleachers. He'd never be more than two tables away. _

_And he was strangely alone. _

_The kid wanted in. And it bugged Todd to no end. He wasn't a fuckin' charity - what the fuck was this kid thinking? In fact, people supposedly thought Todd was goddamn raping these kids, that he was running his own little criminal gang, and that none of the kids were exactly... happy. Todd's protection was coming at a high price. Supposedly._

_Todd got real paranoid about Daryl. _

_One cold afternoon in the yard, Todd was hanging with his MK crew, smoking and laughing at the basketball game that was going south. Rolon and he got up at some point, Rolon needing to go to an afternoon class about to start and Todd needing to get to a group therapy session. He was clean about ten days, the flu symptoms starting to finally abate. It was all bullshit. Soon as the coast was clear, he fully intended to get high again._

_He took a different path from Rolon. Walked past the back buildings, and heard something. A moaning sound. Closing his eyes, he thought it sounded young. Goddamn. He stopped, rolling his eyes. Lingered a little before taking some steps to check out the noise. Behind the building was Daryl. Lying in a ball. Jacket gone, t-shirt ripped, pants to his ankles. Todd pulled up short. Looked around, saw nobody. Right then, Smithy Jackson came up to Todd._

"_That's the new kid...," Smithy murmured, turning to Todd, those dark eyes looking serious. Smithy wanted Todd to help._

_Todd shook his head, hissed, walking away, walking fast, "NO! I don't know him."_

"_You didn't know any of us either."_

"_I knew what I saw with my own eyes. I haven't seen shit here."_

_Smithy grabbed Todd's arm, "At least tell the guard."_

"_The hell...? I don't talk to guards. Let go of me, you little shit." But Smithy wouldn't. And Todd took a hard, long breath before grabbing Smithy by the shirt and slamming him against the wall of the building. "I said, let go of me."_

"_Make me."_

"_The fuck is wrong with you!"_

"_I know what's happened to him... you know what's happened. Do something."_

_Todd dropped his head, and shook it. A sad shake of his head. Smithy still couldn't move beneath those hard hands, but he did have a way with Todd that the others didn't. Smithy reached for Todd's chest, placed a hand on his heart. "I know you," he whispered._

_Todd glanced up, softened eyes landing on someone who'd become a friend. The grip on Smithy's shirt lessened._

"_I got nothing, Jackson. The warden's on my ass... I got everybody looking at me... this thing with Horenda... we gotta be careful."_

"_Just... one more. Do your thing with him. He'll learn his place. I'll make sure of it."_

_So Daryl came on as the last member of Todd's crew. The story Daryl told was that two guards had been raping him. But Todd... he didn't really believe it. There was something that rang hollow in the kid's demeanor, in his... fear. Todd was rough on Daryl, gave him the lowliest jobs, and never talked to him beyond what was necessary. All just to make Smithy and the others a little more comfortable. They liked Daryl. _

_Anyway, a few weeks later, one night... after dinner, Daryl came to Todd asking for more work, for "real" work. Todd was lounging on his cot like a panther, wearing only his sweats. Reading letters. He'd been doing his push-ups and was sweating still. Bare feet tapped the blankets. He eyed Daryl from beneath stringy hair, his face a mask of blankness. _

_The kid made his appeal, told him he knew people now, knew things, knew where to get stuff. He was ready for bigger jobs. Smithy was on the upper cot, quiet as a mouse. Daryl looked up and Smithy shook his head. Todd was wanting to get back to his high, and he was all out again. The tension was thick in the air, like electricity._

_Daryl ignored the warning._

_As he sat listening, Todd decided it was time to test Daryl out. See how real his trauma was. The kids Todd knew who'd been raped in prison, all the kids Todd had thus saved, had a similar sense to them. A reaction. Todd knew these kids like he knew his own soul. He could sniff them out. See it in their eyes. _

_Daryl didn't have it._

"_I don't know," Todd said. "Real work, is dangerous work. I don't think you're ready."_

_Daryl shrugged and was about to turn, about to get away clean, but Todd hopped out of that cot and grabbed Daryl from behind, by the throat. "Come here, Warren... little rabbit..."_

"_Shit...I'm sorry...maybe I shouldn't have asked. I'm real sorry..."_

_Todd grabbed the kid tight to him, held him in an impossibly tight grasp, hissing, "I'm in a bad mood. And you have upset me. I now need something to relieve my... upset."_

_Todd knew he was right about Daryl, and he knew it because the kid wasn't shaking at all. Not a fuckin' flinch. In fact, so far, Daryl had yet to show any real fear. This wasn't right. _

_Growling, Todd said to Smithy, "Get out... and put the sheet up. Life has been just a little too easy for this little rabbit."_

_Smithy did it fast, shaking like a leaf. He looked truly afraid. He'd felt Todd's wrath before... and Todd was really angry right now, jonesing for dope, and really didn't like Daryl. That was a bad combination. It reminded Smithy of Brayden Armstrong._

"_Todd..."_

"_GET OUT."_

_In two seconds, Todd had Daryl on the ground and was wailing on the guy with his fists, punching his head, face, body. Daryl took it fairly well, keeping his hands up, trying to deflect. But the game stopped when Todd flipped Daryl onto his stomach and yanked down the sweat pants, and slammed down his hips against the kid, a solid erection pressing against Daryl's bare ass._

_Daryl fought like a wildcat. Oh hell no, he wasn't going to submit to getting raped. Now... while the other kids in Todd's crew tried to fight Todd when he made himself known as a sexual predator to be feared, theirs was a losing one. It wasn't until their terror was paralyzing that Todd would stop. Daryl never reached that level. He knew how to fight. Real well. One slick move and Todd got a good hard kick to his balls, a punch to his head that made him see stars, and had Daryl's hands around his throat, choking the life out of him. The power in that grip... well... _

"_You touch me that way again and I will fucking kill you," Daryl had growled. And Todd knew he would. Well, he'd try. Todd's hands were up on Daryl's, holding them now because that's all he could do._

_When the black started to come, when the darkness began to take over, Todd's body went limp. And Daryl popped back. Todd gasped for air and woke to light... slammed cold eyes to the "kid" in his crew._

_Daryl had never been raped before. He would have fought just as expertly as he did here. Guards didn't have guns, so they'd have really had no more power than Todd did here. Maybe if the two of them tag-teamed him... no. Todd knew it like he knew his own soul._

_Daryl... had never been raped. Not here, not recently. Fuck. _

_Todd rolled over and tucked himself into a ball, to alleviate the testicular pain. He was panting like a dog and looking at the vulnerable... monster... he'd just taken into his crew. Jesus Christ... who was he? Daryl was trying to cover it up, looking pretend-scared. _

"_You didn't say rape was part of the deal," Daryl said. "It happened before, it ain't happening again."_

"_You owe me, bitch. You want my protection, you don't get to fight me."_

_Daryl was a bit conflicted. Todd KNEW the kid had screwed up whatever he was after. Todd could READ it. The kid looked around, closing his eyes. Opened them._

_Todd said, "Who are you?"_

"_Daryl Warren..."_

"_Who... the fuck... are you?"_

"_I just want to be safe. For the year I'm stuck in this hell."_

_Todd sat up finally, and leaned against the wall, his eyes looking past the opening in the sheet. It was noisy outside, lots of evening chatter, televisions blaring, indecipherable music seeping out of cells. He didn't know who this guy was, and Todd liked keeping his enemies close. Away from Todd, could be more dangerous than having him close._

"_What do I have to do?" Daryl asked. "Anything but getting your dick up my ass."_

_Todd rubbed his throat, obscenely rubbed his sore balls, his cock. Stared hard at the kid. Knowing he had to keep him on the crew. He didn't want to... but this was a big problem. Why did he lie to get close to Todd?_

"_You're dead, you know. As soon as I get up... I'm gonna personally deliver you to some very nice people who will take care of you."_

"_Tell me what I need to do to stay with you."_

"_I don't know," Todd murmured, keeping his eyes on Daryl. After a bit he said, "Tell you what. For now I won't bother you. I want something else a little more than getting off. Get me dope... right now... and I won't bother you. You find heroin... good, clean heroin, and I'll keep you for a while on my crew. You don't come back with it... you're gone. I will not protect you."_

"_You want... heroin."_

"_Yeah... from those people you supposedly know."_

"_Today?"_

"_Right now. You got an hour."_

"_And then I'm in?"_

_Todd grinned, real nasty, "Yeah. But the moment you stray, talk to the wrong person, get into business that ain't yours, you will feel me. You WILL feel my dick up your ass... in your mouth... down your fuckin' throat until YOU can't breathe. Until YOU see the black..."_

_Todd stood now, all six foot of him, all 190 lbs of him, and Daryl... looked up at the ripped monster of a man before him, who'd clearly allowed Daryl to get the best of him. Allowed it. Daryl hadn't really won, only managed to show that he knew how to fight. And he knew... that the next time, Todd wouldn't be so "allowing." It wasn't muscle that made Daryl a believer in this reality, it was raw hate... running up and down every inch of Todd's body, ending in those eyes that backed up his words._

"_You owe me, bitch. And nobody owes me for long."_

_Daryl had blown his cover. Mostly. And they both knew it. Todd wouldn't learn who Daryl really was until a fateful afternoon, only a month later, when the "kid" literally stumbled onto the Horenda killing in that unlit hallway... way back behind the laundry... finding Todd with the knife in his hand, relief on his face like he'd just had the biggest orgasm... like ever... and a very dead Jessie Horenda at his feet, the man's dick firmly entrenched in his own dead mouth, his tit cut off. _

_Circumstantial evidence. Oops. Daryl had laughed aloud... He finally had his "in" to the Mambo Kings, something that had so far been impossible. Dumb fucking luck._

_When Smithy got back to the cell, right before lights out, he knelt by his friend who lay in his cot, staring at the wall. He still just had his sweats. When Todd turned to him, Smithy looked into very sad, very pinned hazel eyes. Saw how far away Todd was. He'd gotten the heroin he'd wanted so badly._

"_Did you... hurt him?" Smithy asked. "For real?"_

_Todd smiled and reached for Smithy, "No... shhhh..." The lights flipped off, the cell doors locked ever so loudly._

"_Is he in? Still?"_

"_Yes, but don't trust him. Tell him nothing."_

"_Okay."_

_He took the kid's hand and rubbed himself with it...his chest, his belly. Held that hand tight to him. Smithy eyed his protector, knowing he wasn't himself. Whispered, "You ok?"_

"_Shhh..."_

_He finally slipped the hand into his sweats and used that grip. Todd's eyes watered, tears slipping down his cheek as he looked up into the mesh work of the cot up above him. Smithy tried to pull away but Todd made him keep up the work. He moved his hips slowly into the kid's fist, feeling everything, holding that hand in his own as it moved up and down his cock. The kid dipped his head down against the bed... his hand, not within his control._

_Soon, Todd wanted it quicker, and with his free hand, held his sweats down to get more movement. His breathing intensified, his muscles tensed, his tatted skin shining with a fine mist in the low light, that moon's light that was breaking through the glass across the way. He murmured words Smithy couldn't understand... finally saying, "Like that, like that..." _

_Todd's body tightened and so did his own grip on Smithy's hand... as he moved closer to ejaculating. Smithy's mouth parted with pain, his own eyes watering from the intense hold his protector had on him._

_At last, Todd's whole body shook with a violent release, a hard grunt coming from deep in his throat, his eyes rolling back into his head, his breath hard, spent. Smithy pulled back, rubbing his hand on his own sweats, needing to quell his own erection, knowing he had to wait._

_Todd relaxed slowly, touching the wetness on his belly, totally disconnected from what just had happened. The kid didn't move, his own breath slowing. Todd reached out and touched Smithy's head, the kid flinching at the touch. Rubbing a thumb against the kid's cheek, Todd whispered, "I'm sorry."_

"_For what?"_

"_Everything."_

_Smithy knew he was not the intended recipient of that apology._

"_They're gonna keep me here, do you know that?" Todd said softly. "They're never letting me out."_

"_Yes, they will... you got so little time left. You working with the Warden - she's on your side."_

"_If I'm still here two months from now, if I get more time... and you're here, too, promise me, you'll get me enough smack to kill me, and a fuckin' needle. Do you understand? You'll help me get that done, yeah?"_

"_No, no, no. I'll never do that. There's always hope."_

_Todd grabbed his friend hair, now, pulled him close. "PROMISE ME, JACKSON."_

"_Manning... come on... don't..."_

"_I'd rather it be you than anybody. I trust you, with my life, with my death."_

_Smithy found himself tearful, finally saying, "Yes, I promise."_

"_I'll come to you. I will."_

_Todd turned over at that, his knees up, like a child. Smithy... well, he crept back to his bed. And lay in the dark. He knew this was one promise that Todd would make him keep. He had a feeling that this promise would far extend beyond these prison walls._

* * *

><p>Tea breathed deeply the cool air on the roof of the Sun building. From here she could see most of Llanview, the heart of the city, the suburbs, the river. It was an amazing, beautiful day. Hard to believe the mother of Jed's child was dead, on such a beautiful day. Another Brandy. Hated the knowledge that her blood was on her husband's hands, along with her killer's blood, too. Looked a man in the eyes and shot him dead. All in the name of MK. She shook her head. The agent confirmed that Todd had been responsible for Horenda's death, too. She honestly could not picture details. Just couldn't.<p>

_Nothing new here, you knew it all along. Just another day in the life of Todd Manning._

She still felt his hard body on hers, his body in her hands, his strong hands in her hair, holding her. Heard his hot, rough whispers in her ear as he moved inside of her. Saw his eyes, dark and light... looking into her, as if he could actually enter her body that way. Only yesterday, she had felt total clarity about him - total understanding. She got it, put everything in its place. It all made sense to her. The gang, the drugs, his agonizing years in prison. Even these... whores. And the ones in Statesville.

God, she huffed, dropping her head into her hands. Hugged herself, suddenly cold. She had a decision to make. In less than a month, she had to make up her mind to separate from Todd... or to go with him into lifelong hiding. Gone would be everything she'd come to love. Starr. Carlotta and the boys. Viki. Her own family. Del. Tomas. Her precious _Abuelita. _

_Is he worth it, mijita? _

_I don't know. How can I be with this man? This dark stranger that lives inside of my heart, and is a part of my own soul. How can I... be with him, knowing everything I know?_

She sat on some crates, needing to put the _new _information she learned into some box of understanding. File it into the right file. Re-categorize it all in a way she could comprehend and access. Did it even change anything? He still had done all those things. Did it matter that he would testify? Did that equal redemption? The sun felt good on her face. She closed her eyes and relished the chilled warmth. A break in the winter. Or was it?

Todd was a confidential informant. The Warden had said he was a snitch, there at the end of his Statesville run - Tea didn't realize how far that went. The Warden had not only minimized what he had been doing, but completely omitted the exploitation aspect of it. They were to this day exploiting Todd and his desperate need to be protected in prison, and to protect others. Despite everything, irrationally so, it infuriated her.

He was still being abused. She walked away from that thought. No, not now... it made her too empathetic. God, no wonder he was still an addict. He was still imprisoned.

She figured the FBI pretty much knew everything he was doing and was just waiting on the sidelines for him to testify against Pedro Moreno. Gave him a free pass for his current role in MK. She needed more on Horenda. Had no idea, really, what the agent knew. She'd walked out of the office at Todd getting hateful towards the agent, did a very un-attorney-like thing and left her husband to the agent and Bo Buchanan. Promised her silence and hit the elevator. They all let her go.

Some time later, just as she got up to leave, deciding to get to Viki's and the children, Todd emerged from the roof's door, looking terribly tired. Worried. Looking every bit the five years he'd served in Statesville plus three. He stood in the shadow of the vents, a breeze kicking up and whipping his longish hair. He wore his black coat, one hand in a pocket, the other reaching for the wall as if he needed it. As if without it, he might just blow off the roof.

"This is pretty confusing, huh," he said in a soft voice.

She eyed him for some moments before speaking. He waited. He'd wait an eternity. "I don't really know you, do I?" she asked. "I am now fully... in the dark. Again. Are you good... or bad?"

He looked beyond her, shrugging a shoulder. "I don't know."

"Did you kill Horenda yourself? With your own hands?"

He looked into the distance, looked back at her. "Mostly me."

"Mostly?"

"Just me."

"Is that all they have on you? Horenda? To get you... in this... situation? To keep you tied to MK?"

"There was a bit more. Things I did... for MK, for myself, to survive in prison. George had negotiations. If I don't testify, I could go to prison for a long time. Most likely will. Evidence... I guess."

Tea thought about his words, looked at him, up and down, hanging onto that wall. "How bad is the evidence against you?"

He shrugged, whispered raggedly, "Daryl... the agent knows details, kinda saw something... it's mainly circumstantial... but... what does it matter? They got my ass over a barrel."

"So you're going to testify. Then what? We all leave together for some... far-away city under new names, new jobs..."

He didn't answer. There was something in his eyes. She walked up to him and grabbed his head in between her cold hands. Looked hard at him. "Oh my god," she said, chuckled darkly and let him go. "Ohhhh... my god... you feel loyal to Pedro Moreno. You don't want to testify. You'd rather go to jail than kill off MK."

He shook his head, then rubbed his face with his free hand, the other still hanging on to that wall. "Can we go home?"

"Me? Go home with you? To our house? As if we have a whole family, and you're just a publisher, and I'm just a lawyer and we have these amazing wonderful children and there's a roasted chicken for dinner... NO! NO, GOD DAMNIT, NO!" She suddenly started crying, wet sobbing tears, "What have you done to us? Huh? WHAT?"

He didn't dare move. He didn't grab her to stop her from breezing past him, from opening the door and disappearing down the stairwell. Just watched her walk away from him and felt his heart fall and his insides shrivel up and his head... god, his head... so wanting to be in the blackness that he loved so much. He was back to wanting to use more than ever before. The need was killing him.

Thing was, she was right. He was prepared to go back to prison rather than testify against Pedro. But not to protect MK, or Pedro. No, he was doing it so that his children, so that Tea, could forever stay here in Llanview, so they could continue living their life. He had no idea what would happen in prison but figured with MK behind him, he'd probably be okay. They'd protect him for the next 25 years or however long they'd put him away. Maybe life, yeah? He would lose his family, he well knew that. He knew that he had probably already lost them. But this way... Tea wouldn't lose her own life.

He covered his face with his hands and screamed bloody murder into them. Punched the air with endless frustration. Paced the roof. Panting like a dog.

His cell lit up and he saw it was Rolon and he just couldn't so he left the roof and headed back down, got into his precious BMW Roadster and roared out of the garage... he didn't know where to go. Saw the cops behind him.

Heroin was calling his name like a Ulyssean siren and he didn't want to hear it but he couldn't stop listening to her syrupy voice, so he just drove his car, drove around Llanview looking for spooks, hidden threats, people with the goods. Monsters in the dark corners. He scanned Sixteenth Street and glanced down alleys and finally landed at RJ's bar.

He knew who'd be there, knew what he could get. And it killed him. He tasted it, felt it. Wanted it fucking bad. An idea began to germinate though. A very bad idea... but one he found terribly relieving. A simple answer. He wouldn't have to testify, Tea and the kids would be safe... and he would never go to prison.

It was so obvious.

He sat in his car in the parking lot, parked in the back. High noon. Broke out cigarettes. Rolled down the window, knocked back his seat a little more and lit up. Breathed in the smoke. In between puffs, his wrist rested on the door, ashes falling to the ground. There was a part of him that was here because he'd wondered if Tea had come running to R.J. She hadn't. He also wondered about the Posse. Whether they now wanted blood from MK. He'd know it before long, sitting in his car... waiting.

Sure enough, a few cigarettes later, R.J. was knocking on the passenger window. Todd unlocked the door and R.J. slid into the seat, all dark leather and even darker fury.

R.J. sniffed hard, and turned to Todd who gave R.J. a quick side glance before staring into space again. "What the FUCK happened last night?"

"Bloodbath. The Serranos are after MK. Simple shit."

"Real simple, because now the Posse is after the Serranos and none-too-happy about being casualties of MK bullshit, which means they're none-too-happy with fuckin' MK."

"Do I look happy to you, Gannon? Do I look like a goddamn expert of organized crime psychology? I'm just the information guy. That's all I am."

"Why are you here?"

He said nothing and R.J. shook his head, a nasty little chuckle coming from deep in his throat. "You're a fuckin' asshole, Manning. Jovanna's not here yet. She works fuckin' NIGHTS. It's fuckin' noon outside in case you hadn't noticed."

"I got nowhere to go right now."

"You were gonna wait in the parking until she arrived?"

"Didn't say I was here for her."

"You didn't have to."

R.J. dug into his pocket and tossed two bags of perfect heroin onto Todd's lap. Todd gazed at the packages, looked back at R.J. Held that stare a moment. R.J. leaned forward, put a heavy hand on Todd's shoulder, and hissed, "Get the fuck out of my parking lot. Don't come back. If you do, I will make your life a living hell. In the meantime, I hope you fuckin' kill yourself. I promise you, I will take care of your family. Like they were my very own."

Todd tightened his jaw, his mouth twisted into nothing but a slash of hate... "You talk to her, you look at her... it will be ME making YOUR life a livin' hell. Dead...or alive."

R.J. pulled away and smirked. "Fuck you, Manning."

He opened the car door and slammed it shut, sauntering away, his swagger sure, his walk... backing up his talk. The door opened to his club and swung closed,Todd locked out.

He looked down at the smack... so ready for that darkness. So ready. Nobody could get to him if he were dead. His wife, his family... they'd never be touched by MK. The whole thing would be over. As if he never existed.

He just needed a syringe. _Easy-peasy. _Jedediah had one. Hidden in plain view at the Penthouse. The same one Rolon had used on him. He punched the gas pedal... yeah.

* * *

><p>R.J. got right back to his books. Sat in his office for an hour or so, plugging in numbers... before cursing like a motherfucker and tossing the stack of papers across his office. Tea would never forgive him if she knew that he gave Todd that much heroin, and told him to go kill himself. Something in Manning's eyes had told R.J. that something very bad was going to happen.<p>

Deep inside... no, not that deep, he hoped the world would be finally rid of that sonofabitch. R.J. pulled up a screen on his computer. Plugged in some numbers and watched where Todd was going. Watched the little blip move across Llanview. Todd didn't know the heroin bags had a little tracer attached. R.J.'s way of keeping control. For Tea.

"Shit...," he sighed. Watching, watching. An hour later the blip had clearly stopped. God damn. This prick was really going to do it. Fuckin' China Moon Motel... just like old times. What an asshole.

Thing was, R.J. loved Tea more than his own selfish hate hof Manning. Too much. He picked up the phone. Called his people. Used the information he got from Todd's goddamn lawyer, just the other day.

"Get Manning," R.J. said. "Get that motherfucker out of whatever room he's in and take him to the address I'm sending you. Even if you have to fuckin' gag and tie that bitch. Unless he's seriously dead - then drop him at Llanview hospital. Oh and hey... be real nice to the guy with the rifle. He don't look like much supposedly, but he got a real itchy trigger finger."

* * *

><p>The China Moon Motel hadn't changed, not one bit. And just like old times, nobody knew he was here. He'd gone back to the Sun, walked the tunnels out of surveillance, and caught a taxi here. Todd threw cash at the motel manager, got his old room. Same puke-ish green carpets, same browns and golds of a time long-gone. The room was dark, hopeless. Just as it had always been. Brandy's voice seemed to bounce off the walls. Jedediah's, too. For all the kid had been through, funny how he didn't hide the needle. Funny how the syringe he'd found at Todd's place had been hidden in open space, stuck into his backpack, in his room. For being so... grown-up... he was still a kid. Todd had easily taken it and now he was here, ready to go.<p>

There wasn't much to do, you know? All his papers were in order. His lawyer really had prepared well for Todd dying. All would be good. Tea would be set, the kids... set. Even his pet charity with the Warden would be set.

He sniffed and sat on the bed. The syringe was full. This would kill him. He didn't have the tolerance. He also knew the quality of R.J.'s stuff. He tossed off his shirt, kicked off boots, and wrapped his belt around his arm, the end in his mouth to hold it tight. Saw a vein pop up blue and thick. His heart thumped hard, like it was going to pop out of his chest. He pressed the needle against his skin and then didn't. Looking around, he saw his children, and Tea.

"_I don't want you to die like all those other soldiers."_

_I don't have any choice, baby girl._

He knew what this would do to them, but Tea would understand he'd done the right thing. She'd make sure his children would survive. He couldn't live with prison, and he couldn't have her and the kids on the run... this would end everything. MK would still... live.

_To kill more people. To suck the life out of more young men. Every day, for years and years... young men will die thanks to the guns coming in, the drug trade that kept on, and the whole fucked-up mind-set of a major gang._

He found himself arguing with her. "This is the right thing! Don't fuckin' disagree!"

He breathed in and... punched the needle into the blue beneath his skin. Just like old times. He gasped at the sudden thrill rushing through him at the mere pinch. He pulled back the plunger and saliva seeped into his mouth, like he was about to eat a really good steak... a bloom of blood filled the barrel. He thought he'd feel worse. He'd done this once before, with the needle, did it to end his life, and he recalled the pain, the soul-crushing pain he felt. This...wasn't quite...

So easy... yeah?

He looked up... and suddenly thought about his car. Needed a tune up. Heard that little click in the engine when he was driving around town. _Click, click, click._ Which led to his remembering that Leon Gold was supposed to call him about that paper out of Philly that was about to go under. The counteroffer was good, if a little high for its value and subscription numbers. But it was a good one. What's a little extra money to its owners? An itch wanting scratching tickled his upper shoulder... and his stomach growled from hunger, but he couldn't reach his shoulder because he was sitting on his bed with the end of his belt in his mouth, his hand open and flush against his thigh, the leather around his upper arm, and a syringe stuck into his vein, about to get really fucking high... kill himself actually.

If someone would see him... using a heat sensor, he realized his body would light up the sensors like Christmas. He had never felt so alive as right now. He was so far from suicide that it wasn't even funny. He laughed at himself... he knew what it felt like to be ready, willing and able... knew what it was to have given up every reason to breathe...

And FUCK, this wasn't it.

He hated to waste the heroin though...

...so without thinking twice, he pressed the plunger down, just enough... maybe a tad more than just enough to feel God's hand around his heart and witness the closest thing to Paradise on this earth. He let go of the belt. And the thing hit him like a Mack truck... holy SHIT...

_God, god, yes. _

Moaning into the bleak room like a desperate whore with the last john in the world, falling backwards onto the bed, Todd felt what he loved most in this world, the blackness, the silence, the come times a thousand... the drug that cut him off from everything in his life that caused him pain. He breathed in deep, air running into every part of his body... and let it out. He knew he'd puked all over the bed and it didn't matter. He knew he'd just pissed himself with a total let down of everything. The Princess had welcomed him home with open arms, and endless love. As if he never left.

He knew he'd fucked up by doing this. Opened a door that should have stayed closed.

_God, god, yes. _

_You will never leave me, will you, Precious? I have so missed you._

_Never again, my Princess of Peace._

His last thought as he careened along the highway to hell, was he'd done it just right. Just enough so he could wake up later... so he could get the hell on with his life.

And come right back here again, and again, and again.

_Later alligator, in a while crocodile...fuck yeah._

* * *

><p>Ty Jerome had been feeding the dogs when he heard a car roar up to the driveway. Sun had set, and he wasn't expecting visitors. He grabbed his rifle and walked out front. Took him a few moments to realize what he was looking at from behind his pointed gun. Wished he had a goddamn camera.<p>

Hanging his head like a broken marionette was a shirtless, belt-less, barefoot and unmistakable Todd-fucking-Manning, his arms around the necks of two massive Rasta guys, his legs loose like spaghetti. The men smiled wide, braids swinging, one asking if he was Ty Jerome.

"What's it to you?"

"Well dis package is for you. You s'posed to keep him until you're told to let him go. Our boss say, put him in one of da cages if you have to."

The guys dropped Todd like a hot potato, Todd hitting the ground painfully hard.

"What did you do to him?" Ty asked.

"Notin' - he jus' high on da heron. Have a good nite, mon."

The truck roared back out of the driveway, roared into the night. The dogs were going crazy.

Ty stood, looking down at his old protector. He noticed blood on Todd's arm and body and he stank like hell. Oh yeah. Heroin. Mainlined. Idiot. Shook his head. For being on top of the world with his big-ass company, home with his family, one would think Todd would have stopped this garbage. It was bad that he'd upped the ante to needles. Something bad was going on.

Ty hadn't seen Todd in forever. He hadn't changed very much except he had a whole bunch more gray hair. Even like this, half-dead on the dirt, he scared the hell out of Ty. One thing was to admire what he'd done for him, and to declare his loyalty, but it was quite another to see him up close.

The tattoos looked just as black and imposing as always... those scars and muscles... Ty had felt that fist against his own face, enough to make him wince in recall. He remembered the lawyers. He had a feeling the lawyers had Todd brought here. And he had a feeling that Todd... wouldn't want to be here once he woke up. Yup, he'd be a'wantin' to leave and there must be a good reason for him NOT to leave.

So Ty did what he thought best. The cage... made a lot of fucking sense.

He walked to the gate to the kennels and opened it up, put the rifle in its cozy above the kitchen door and returned to the still-half-dead Todd. Squatted to his level, "Hey... wake up. Manning! Come on!" He slapped him a couple of times, kinda half-assed because he really didn't want to wake him. Ty fell back with the slightest feeling of terror when Todd opened his eyes a second, but then he shut them. He obviously had no interest in coming to so Ty took a deep breath and grabbed him by the wrists. Threw him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, grunting at the sheer weight of the guy. "Christ! The hell do you eat? Barbells? Shit..."

He kicked the kennel gate closed. The dogs loud, mad that a stranger had disrupted their dinner.

Ty carried him to the warmest cage he had. Right next to the door to the house. Warmers made the cage comfortable. Through the already open door, he gentled Todd to the cold concrete. Locked the cage door. Locked the kennel gate. He turned the warmers on, punching them up to 70 degrees. Real nice. He turned on some dim outside lights and grabbed a chair. And his little black puppy. Shivered in the cold.

Sat there to wait Todd out. Shit. Ty got up and grabbed his rifle again, laying it across his lap. The puppy leaned his little butt against the rifle. Looked with dark eyes at Ty who smiled at his little friend. Quiet had returned to the kennel, except for one.

Turning to the deep growls of Breaker in the back, Ty eyed the broken putt bull terrier in the dim light. Because he couldn't bark, Breaker bashed himself against the cage, having sensed a new person on the property. Yelling across the kennel, Ty shouted, "Cut it out!" The dog growled in that weird broken way of his and paced. Bashed himself against the cage again, the metal shaking. Again and again, the dog bashed the gates.

Shit. Ty pulled his phonebc out of his pocket. Dialed. He had digits to the most important people he knew.

"Jackson? It's me, Ty Jerome. Yeah. It's been a while. Well... I got a situation. Manning is here... yeah, Todd Manning himself, and when he wakes up, he's gonna be real pissed off. I need your help." A couple of minutes later, Ty dialed another number and another one.

Two hours later, in full dark, Ty Jerome, Smithy Jackson, Joe Rodriguez, and Tomas Flora were all standing around the cage. Looking hard at the man who saved them, who made their lives hell, who pulled them into the greatest moment of revenge that would carry them the rest of their lives.

The murder crew. Back together again.

Todd opened his eyes to undefined noise, and saw nothing but darkness, a werewolf's moon, and cell bars. He lay there for the longest while trying to make sense of things. The voices he heard silenced. He got to his knees, then to his feet. Looked around, confused and very afraid. He was breathing hard, shaking like hell. He couldn't see people, he couldn't place where he was. Just heard noise and saw light and dark. But mostly... metal bars. He threw his body against the cage so suddenly, and so hard, the men jumped back.

"GET ME OUTTA HERE! GET ME OUTTA HERE!"

He bashed himself against the cage again and again... yelling wildly, madly, out of his fuckin' mind with sheer terror, and rage.

Ty looked across the way at the pit bull terrier doing the same thing. The crew eyed each other.

"There better be a god damn good reason for this," Smithy breathed. "Cause otherwise, he's coming right through that gate... and he will kill every one of us."

**To be continued...**


	24. Chapter 24

**Caged **

**Chapter 24**

One last bash of his body against the chain link fence of the cage and Todd collapsed against the metal, his fingers coming through the links. Bruised and bloody, he sank downwards onto the concrete. The men had tried to talk to him, explain the situation, but his mind was clouded with fear, rage, and most of all, the heroin. So they stopped trying, to let him burn up a little before talking with him again - Ty's idea. That's how he dealt with troubled dogs who lost their minds in cages.

Smithy had sat next to the cage, head down, knees up. Flinching every time Todd hit that fence, every time he yelled. He'd just watch, talk softly, "It's okay, Manning... it's just a place to keep you safe from whatever is out there." The words went nowhere. He couldn't bear his friend being in so much pain. He never could, even back before they were friends... when Todd was just his tormenting, dangerous protector.

Smithy volunteered to be the one to talk to him the next time Todd quieted - he did have a way with Todd, and his voice would be familiar, less threatening. Ty went inside to get provisions for his guest: food, milk, and a heavy dose of Valium he'd crush into bottled water. Yeah, yeah, it worked for his more troubled dogs. Ty did have a tranquilizer gun, thought about using it, but that would only add yet another waking in the cage. Tomas and Joe sat a ways away, talking quietly, playing with Ty's sleepy puppy. Drinking hot coffee. The dogs in the kennel quieted right along with Todd, as did Breaker. The scarred black pit bull finally collapsed on his side, exhausted from his own battle with the world.

Todd was panting hard, not unlike Breaker, wounded from his delirious fight to get free of the cell he'd found himself in. His head was down, leaning against the fencing, his hands still clinging to the metal links, the fence being the only thing holding him up. Spotty yellow light flowed through the kennel, heavy shadows darkening half the place.

Smithy talked quietly through the grating, saying, "Hey, Manning, it's me... Smithy. I'm sorry for you having to wake up in here. But it's not meant to hurt you."

"Where am I?" Todd croaked, not moving.

"In Ty Jerome's kennel. Your lawyer said you have to stay put a while. He said you'd probably hurt someone to get away from here so maybe the cage was a good place to hold you."

Todd turned and looked through the fencing, raggedly said in halting phrases, "Better keep me... locked up a long time... 'cause... I'm gonna kill you for this. You and Ty and George."

"What's going on at home? Why is your lawyer so scared of you being in Llanview? We tried calling him again, the card that he gave Ty, but he hasn't called back, and neither has your... um... other lawyer. Um... Mrs. Manning's office number just keeps ringing and ringing."

"I don't know... I don't know anything." He slowly let go of the links and curled up on the floor. Covered his head with his arm. Smithy closed his eyes, leaned his own head against the fence. In the old days, he'd have gone to Todd. Gotten close to him. Even after all this time out of Statesville, one hour in a cage showed just how broken Manning still was.

Ty returned and squatted low, next to Smithy. He opened a little slot and shoved in a sandwich on a plate, milk, and bottled water. Everything was sprinkled with Valium. Ty shrugged, mouthed, "Hope it works."

Joe and Tomas wandered over, all the men looking at Todd.

Tomas whispered, "Is he dead?"

Joe glanced at Tomas, "Seriously? Are you an idiot? And... and... where the hell have you been? You know you're a missing person according to the cops."

"Yeah... I'm working on a dairy farm not twenty-five miles from here. Cash under the table. Drive a tractor. Pull cows. Feed cows. Brand cows. I live for the cow, under a new name..."

Ty chuckled, "Live for the cows...heh... you like them heifers?"

"My new name is... Matt _Roman_. Accent on the 'a.'"

"Oh Jesus," Joe said, "Why?"

"Roman, accent on the 'a,' sounds very European, instead of... you know..."

"Puerto Rican, Mexican, Guatemalan?" Ty joked.

Joe shook his head, "No, no... not why 'Roman,' accent on the 'a,' why a fucking fake name?"

"Oh. I don't want people to find my rap sheet. Trust me, Matt lives a peaceful life."

Joe shrugged, "Try New York City - everyone's a criminal there. You're not cool if you don't have a rap sheet." He put an arm around Tomas, "Come, you can room with me. Work in the restaurant."

"Oh hell no, I got no interest in getting in the way of your endless stream of boyfriends."

They all laughed, the banter going back and forth. Todd moved at that sound, at the familiarity. He lifted his head, looking through the fence. The men quieted. He crawled to the fence again, and peered through the links, fingers poking through the fence. "Who's there?"

"We all are...," Smithy said. "Everyone who matters. Me, Tomas, Joe and Ty. Royce would have come, I know it, but he... he's still at Statesville."

"Fucking hell...," Todd groaned, lying down right at the cage's edge. He lifted his head again and saw the milk. Reached for it and drank it down. He hadn't eaten in like two days. The sandwich disappeared in two or three bites. He couldn't unscrew the bottle and just threw it.

"I'm hungry," Todd whispered, lying down again.

"You want a burger? I can make you one," Joe offered.

"Can I have a knife to cut it?" He'd said it through gritted teeth.

"Uh, no."

"Fuck you then." Todd lay still again.

Tomas smiled, "Hmm... that makes me miss Statesville. I have missed you, Manning!"

Joe and Ty chuckled and Smithy shook his head, "You all are asking for a punch in the gut."

"I miss that, too. I miss living in a constant state of fear...," Tomas was joking, sorta. He inched closer to the gate. He watched Todd lie there. His voice changed, Tomas far away now.

"You scare me, man," he said. "You scare the piss right outta me. Still... always. I dream of you, you know. Dream of you coming towards me... blood dripping off your body, teeth like a goddamn vampire, those fucking tats... then walking right past me and killing the fucking _puto_ who's raping me, raping my insides out."

Tomas stopped talking, looked away, a hand covering his mouth, his gaze hidden in the darkness. Smithy put a hand on his old friend. Tomas turned to him, "I don't know how you survived what you went through, Jackson. I was on the... rotation schedule... for a short time in comparison to you."

"I don't know..." Smithy whispered.

Joe nodded in Todd's direction, "That's how. I'd be dead if it wasn't for him."

"Me too," Ty said softly. "Of course, I nearly died working for him. More than once. And I think he himself nearly killed me a few times. But yeah, yeah... kudos to you, Manning."

Tomas shook his head, laughing a little, "Yeah, I remember that one time, you were trying to use your wiles to get the porn from the Riders... what did you think was gonna happen, wagging your het tail at them?"

They all laughed knowingly, remembering what happened when Ty got jumped in the process of making a pick-up. The particularly Rider who was beating the fuck out of Ty got jumped in turn by Todd's crew. They each had a shank and they each knew how to use it. The guy got stabbed in the throat and kidneys, multiple times. He was in shock when these soft, young, small "kids" suddenly turned into Cujo times three. Piranhas. Thanks to Todd teaching them.

"Yeah...," Tomas sighed. "In your sick kinda way, you made me feel safe, Manning."

Todd didn't move, staying on his side.

Ty spoke into the cage, "Really, you want something else to eat? Manning?"

"I want a shower," he said. "Let me out of here. I'm not going anywhere."

They all looked at each other, Ty studying his coat sleeves, knowing what lie beneath them. Scars ran up and down his forearms, bites from his dogs. He knew how these dogs were. They were sweet, deep inside they really were sweet. But the dogs had been abused, damaged forever. They'd be kissing you, loving you up, letting you rub them. Then something would hit them wrong and they'd turn on you, quick as lightning. They couldn't help it. They would grow afraid, and go on the offensive.

Goddamn unpredictable.

"I can't do that," Ty said, "... not until you're calmer. And Manning, your lawyer was really insistent that you stay put."

Todd lifted himself up, then slowly, agonizingly so, he got to his feet. All the men found themselves looking up at him. He slammed his hands on the gate. Fingers tight on the links. They could see and hear the softest, lowest... hum coming from him. Maybe more of a growl. "Open... the fucking... door.." The silence maddened him, so he shouted, "OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!" He grabbed the fence, shaking it wildly. "OPEN IT!" He yelled more, threw himself more at the gate.

"Goddamn Valium didn't do shit," Ty sighed.

Smithy had scrambled to his feet. Shook his head, and turned to Ty. "Open the door, and let me in. I'll calm him."

All the guys said at the same time, "Are you crazy?"

"Crazy? He nearly died lots of times... fighting for us, fighting people who wanted to hurt us. Remember that? You, you, Joe... he challenged that El Salvadoran bastard who had you in his cell. And he got fucked up! Tomas... you, too, those goddamn Russians had you until Todd got to them. Not to mention how we all ended up with him in the first place. You have no idea. None of you do." Smithy hit his chest, "I saw it, I lived with him. I saw the pain he went through to keep us working for him, and SAFE. He let people think the WORST of him to protect us."

Smithy looked into the cell, Todd finally stopping his mad run at the walls around him, but groaned raggedly, hanging onto those links again.

"I see the pain he lives with EVERY DAY. MK never would have happened if it wasn't for us, if he hadn't gotten Diego Loriz." Smithy looked at all of them. "You didn't know Diego. I did. He was my predecessor. You have no idea what Todd gave up to get vengeance for us, for Diego. He gave up everything... to get to the mother of all monsters, Jessie Horenda. You should know better, Ty. You lived with him, too. YOU saw the truth of him. And now, he's on the fucking mat for Horenda? He could get the death penalty. Do you get that? I'll give up whatever... my own fucking LIFE, if it will help him. I'm not crazy. You all are, for staying outside of this fucking cage."

They all looked at Todd, looked back at Smithy. Stunned at Smithy's defense. Tomas spoke up, though. "Even so, he was mean as hell, Jackson. He protected us, but he hurt us, too. Sorry if I'm not so willing to get the shit beat outta me again any time soon."

"He had to do that, and you KNOW that."

"Doesn't change things - I like my face the way it is. No offense to you."

Joe asked quietly, "What do you mean Manning's on the mat for Horenda? What death penalty? What are you talking about?"

Ty nodded his head, "Yeah, the cops, they're asking questions. Lots of questions. Didn't they talk to you?"

"Well, yeah, but... they didn't mention going after Manning. They just said they were doing an exit interview, asking me about my time in Statesville, and what I remember about Horenda's killing. I told 'em what we all said, that we were playing pick-up b-ball." He sighed and looked away, "Manning doesn't deserve that. What happened was for the world. Fuckin' justice."

Smithy asked again, "Ty, open the door for me."

Todd chuckled, a dark tone, mimicking Smithy, "Open the door, Ty, open the door... for _Jackson_." Immediately the tension shot through the roof. Everyone turned to Todd. They stepped back a little. He WAS mean, he DID hurt them. They didn't forget it. None of them.

Smithy looked through the fencing, said, "I'm coming in... you step back. I'm gonna help you, talk to you."

"Like before? Like back then? You gonna..._ help_... me? You gonna do what you do BEST?"

Smithy said, "I'm gonna stay with you. To show you that there isn't anything to be afraid of in there."

Todd got real close to the fence, said in a soft, ragged voice, "You gonna fuck my fear away, Jackson? Gonna... gonna make me come, like you used to, so I forget where I'm at? Huh, that what my bitch gonna do? That what my whore gonna do?" Todd chuckled, pressed his hips against the gate. "Well, come on in then... come... fuck me. And I... will FUCK you. Like we used to." More cold laughs, deadened ones.

Tomas got seriously triggered and walked away, hunched over in pain. Joe followed him to the shadows, shaking his head, leaning down to him. Whispered, "It's okay, Manning's just real scared. That cage man, the dope, got him all... fucked up."

"Did he hurt Jackson, Joe? Did he? Why's he talking like that?"

Joe shook his head, "I don't know."

Not being able to talk, Tomas just slid to the ground. Not wanting to hear another word. Joe stood by him. Had a new opinion of Smithy Jackson, because of all of them, he was the smallest, he was the most damaged, he was... the one who had stayed Manning's cellmate the longest. He was his cellmate before Todd got humanized in that last year. Yet, he didn't back down, not one inch. He didn't run from the monster in front of him.

Smithy stood real straight, said, "No. I ain't gonna do any of that. I'm gonna be in that cage as long as you have to be. When they say it's time to get out, I'll walk out right with you."

"You might be dead, Jackson, you hear me? You might not walk outta here."

"And if that's the case... that's the case."

Todd grabbed onto those links and shook the cage like hell again, screaming incoherently, head back, hair wild. Tomas covered his head, found himself shaking like a leaf. Joe got mad, stormed over to Ty, "Come on, man! What's this lawyer thinking? Why you gotta put up with this bullshit! You didn't ask for this!"

"I didn't ask, I offered. Offered my place, as a refuge. I won't turn my back on him, Joe. Jackson's right."

Joe leaned into Ty, "If Jackson's so right, they why's Manning saying those things to him? Where there's smoke there's fire." Joe turned to Smithy. "Did he rape you, is that why he's talking that way? Maybe he's just as bad as Horenda. Maybe we just oughta let him die in there." Smithy growled like a pit bull and ran at Joe, smashing him hard against the cage, holding him by the shirt against the metal. Joe's eyes shot open, feeling a whole lot of power behind that small body.

"He didn't fucking rape me, you asshole! NEVER! I gave myself to him, willingly... when he needed me! Fuck you, Joe! Fuck you! You don't know anything anyway. You never got it from Horenda... so you don't know shit! Manning was NOTHING like that sick motherfucker! NOTHING!"

Smithy shoved Joe away who then muttered, "Sorry... know, I know..."

Once again, Todd started fighting the fence, bashing himself against it over and over. It was noisy enough that Ty nodded the okay to Smithy. He got his key out and jerked the cage lock, the door inching open and Smithy jumping in. The door slammed back shut and Ty locked it.

Tomas yelled, "HOLY FUCK! Smithy! Joe... come on... come on!"

"It's okay... it's okay," Joe promised, not feeling it one iota.

Todd had no idea what transpired... he was too busy losing his mind in that dark cell. He banged at the metal, threw himself at the door until he couldn't, fresh blood snaking down his body, the disorientation worse than ever. He fought until his body gave out and fell down once more against the fence. Grumbling words that made no sense, groaning, the sound non-stop.

Smithy stood quiet, quiet, in the corner. The men... they were holding their breaths, sure they were about to lose their most gentle friend.

* * *

><p>Tea was in Brandy's old room. She knew it to be so but Viki assured her that the place was totally changed. It was a simple room, Victorian style. What Viki didn't know or didn't remember was where that black angel came from. The one on the mantle. Todd must have put it here. She checked her phone for the millionth time. It was very late. She told Todd that she couldn't go home with him, but she had nagging worries.<p>

He never called her. His phone kept going to voice mail. George was silent, R.J. was silent. Jedediah was hanging in there, but with fear in his voice, said over the cell, "I don't know where he is, Moms. His cars are all in place. He musta been taxi'ing."

"How's Rose?"

Jedediah sighed, sounded pained, said in a soft voice, "She wants her mom."

"I'm so sorry. Did Leticia have any family?"

"No. Rolon was it. And me, in a way. MK was her family. Nothing but whores..." He stopped talking. Just couldn't.

"You still want to move forward with the adoption?"

"Oh yeah, yeah for sure. Rolon is okay with it. He's going to give up parental rights."

Tea smiled, "I'm proud of you, Jedediah Chant."

"I just wish... it didn't have to be like this."

"I know. We'll do right by Leticia. She will look down on you and be so happy that Rose's father... has her. You're not in MK. Rose... will have a real chance in this world."

She had hung up... and went right back to worrying. She got up out of bed. Got dressed again. Said her goodbyes to Viki who was having a late night tea in the kitchen.

"Tea, where are you going?"

"Investigation. I'm very worried. I might have my... issues right now, but my radar is going off... something is very wrong. I'm going to R.J. Gannon. He's not taking my calls, but he'll see me when I show up at his door."

Fifteen minutes later, Tea was rolling into the crazy parking lot of R.J.'s club. It was packed. She parked in the disabled parking, thinking a little lowly, "Tow me, bitches."

The club itself was hopping, the bouncer letting her in, knowing her well. He tipped his head, smiling at Tea's outfit, all black, leather jacket, boots to kill. She wanted to come in her sweats but thought differently. She slid through the crowd, got stopped by a real big guy at R.J.'s office door. She yelled, "He knows me! Let me in!"

"Tea Delgado, he don't want to see you."

"WHAT? You tell him this..." She crooked a finger and the seven-foot hunk of a black man bent low to her. She hissed in his ear, "You tell him I have the cops on my speed dial. If he doesn't let me in, I'm reporting that drugs are being sold here, and sanctioned by R.J. himself. You hear me?"

The guy shot straight up. Rolled his eyes. Walked back into the office. Two minutes later, the office door opened and he smiled at her. "Go on in."

"Goddamn right."

Tea had her own swagger and showed it off as she walked into R.J.'s office. She slammed the door shut and stood with her hands on her hips. "Where is he? WHERE IS TODD?"

R.J. was at his desk and breathed in deeply, leaning back with his hands behind his head. "Hi, Tea. Why aren't you at home with the babies?"

"I don't normally say this... but... FUCK you, Gannon. Where is he?"

A look of pain crossed his face, and Tea shot out, "He's with a whore? Is that what you're saying? I don't care. Do you understand? I just want to know! TELL ME!"

"No, baby, it's a bit worse than that... it's a bit better."

"Please just spill it."

R.J. got up and pulled her down to the couch. "He came here today, noontime. Wanted dope. I gave it to him. I'm sorry about that. I did it for a reason. I attached a tracer on it so I could know where he was. I knew... he'd take that shit wherever he was going."

"So where did he go?"

"He went to the Penthouse... to the Sun...and then... the China Moon Motel."

Tea's face blanched. "He's using..."

"Yeah...he's on the spike again. Girl, he tried to kill himself. But... last minute... musta changed his mind. Cuz he just ended up getting high. My men... they picked him up outta that motel room, a fuckin' mess, real out of it. In that way he only gets when he shoots up. From what they said, he had no idea what was happening."

"So you have him?"

"No. I got a call from his lawyer, Strauss? He told me that in the event Manning... um... got outta hand in some way, that I was to have him... transported... to Ty Jerome's kennel. That I was to have Ty... lock Todd up in one of those kennel cages. Keep him there until it's all clear. Todd going off the rails on the heron... was one of the outta-hand things George mentioned."

Tea's eyes grew huge, "Are you kidding?"

"No, wish I was."

"Did you tell George what happened?"

"Yup... heard from him right after I had Todd picked up - he said, do it, Manning's out of control and in deep shit. Get him into hiding until we figure a way out of the mess he's in. I was way ahead of Strauss."

She huffed, rubbed her face, her features pinched in pain, "Oh god... do you know..."

"You don't have to say it. If Manning wakes up... in a locked cage... God help anyone who put him inside of it."

Tea shook her head, feeling on the verge of tears. "How do you know he tried to kill himself?"

R.J. got up at that, bent to his desk, opened a drawer. Pulled out a bag. Dumped its contents onto an open space on his desk. Tea got up, her hand over her mouth. Feeling like she was looking at what a morgue would turn over.

Todd's belt was there, boots had clunked onto the floor. His wallet, cell phone... and a half-full needle. R.J. picked up the syringe. "Do you know how much this is? If he had taken the whole thing, it would have killed him. This _was_ two bags worth. He only took a little of it. He obviously intended to do the whole thing. Something changed his mind."

Tea looked up at him. Breathed out. Looked angry, R.J. expecting it. "Two bags of heroin? TWO? You gave him two."

R.J. sighed, shook his head. "I'm sorry... I'm not going to say I didn't have malice aforethought."

"You bastard." Tea glanced beyond everything, breathing out a hard breath. Not _that _angry at R.J. Todd would have just gotten the drugs somewhere else. "I knew this was coming," she said.

"Why you say that?"

"He was overwhelmed this morning. I could see it in his eyes, on his face. I could hear it in his voice. I walked away from him. I couldn't... handle it. R.J. I need to tell you something. Something that could get him killed, could get all of us killed. Can I trust you... with his life?"

"Despite the two bags of dope."

"Yes."

R.J. pressed his lips together... "No, you can't trust me with his life. You can trust me with YOURS, yes. But... I know that Manning's life is... your life. In that sense... I protect him. Only for you, woman." He had reached to her face, caressing her cheek. He smiled at her. "I know you love him. No matter what."

"I will tell you then. How bad the trouble is. The corner he is in."

"Beyond the MK shit?" He sounded bitter.

"Yes." She swallowed. Looked around. "Is this place bugged?"

R.J. wanted to laugh but knew she was serious. He shook his head. "No, girl. No."

"Todd is a C.I. for the FBI. They've been... exploiting his relationship with MK for the three years he's been out of Statesville. He's set to testify against Pedro Moreno in exchange for immunity for all his past crimes in Statesville, and since."

R.J.'s mouth dropped open, and he promptly fell onto his chair. "Woman. Your turn to be joshing ME. Motherfuck..." He was quiet for a while. Finally looked at her, said, "Well... don't this just explain all." He studied his office, all around, settled back on Tea. "He shocked me yesterday. When he was... with you... and he and I kinda got into it, after."

Tea nodded, listening.

"Three years he's been outta Statesville and yet, he looks like a convict in the middle of his sentence. Men, they act a particular way in prison. I knew this was beyond just being in MK. Look at Moreno, fine decent man. He don't look like a convict. Even Rolon... he's gotten somewhat civilized. But not Manning. I been thinking and thinking... why he still act like this? I thought maybe it was the system, you know? Prison burns people up... but then, why he still using dope, and needing those women..." He looked up at her, "I'm sorry. But...girl, he's been using all through his time in Statesville to escape that pain... why he still in that same pain...as if he still behind bars?"

"Because he IS behind bars. The FBI has not freed him."

"Bingo. He'll always be an asshole, don't get me wrong... I don't feel a fuckin' ounce of empathy. But... that goddamn FBI."

"R.J., I'm asking YOU. Is there a way to get him free? Without testifying? To be safe, forever? I don't know how he'll live his life... without us. I will not go into protection. I will not leave... here... to live with an addict, with an imprisoned man, with someone broken, hurt, forever in pain with no support system. Other than just him and me? We'll never make it together under these circumstances. He won't make it out there alone either. He will never forgive himself for what has happened."

"I have to think on it. I don't know, Tea. Guess his lawyer is wondering the same thing?" He cocked his head, "You want to take a ride to him? I'll go with you."

Tea nodded, smiling sadly. "I know it hurts you."

"It did. Until yesterday. I learned something about you... in seeing... too much. I will never get in the way of you two again. Not until you are done with him. And... even then... I don't think you'll ever be done with him, even if you have divorced him, moved away from him... or buried him."

Something in R.J.'s words got to her and her eyes watered. She looked away rubbing her eyes. "Damn it," she whispered. Then she sniffled, cleared her throat. And said, "Let's go. I need to see him."

"My chariot is yours."

As they walked past the office door, R.J. stopped. Pointed at his bouncer. "I need someone who can bring down a wild bear. You comin' with me."

"You got it, boss."

The three of them walked out the club, got into R.J. long black Jaguar. Tea and R.J. in the back... the bouncer in the front. He looked in the mirror. "Where we headed, Mr. Gannon?"

"Last Stop Kennels. In Dunning."

The car got into gear... and off into the dark they drove.

* * *

><p>Smithy stayed quiet... quiet... Todd crumpled in the opposite corner. He'd done quite a number on himself trying to get out. He was beyond reason, beyond sense. He whispered words to himself in some moments, bristled in hate in other moments. He opened his eyes a few times and studied Smithy in the corner. The kid just smiled a little. He inched a little closer. A little closer.<p>

After a bit of daring movements, he was now just an arm's length away. The guys were outside, watching carefully. Tomas had gone inside the house, too scared for Smithy's life to be a party to the sheer madness.

Ty and Joe spoke softly, shared information. The things they knew about MK and Todd's involvement, the current gang war. Their chatter served as a soft meditative sound to Todd's inner chaos.

Smithy talked softly, "There's nothing to be scared of in here. You know what's out there. Just a bunch of other cages, dogs... broken dogs. Ty is a good guy, he loves these dogs. You know he keeps one in the way back, he calls him Breaker. 'Cause he's a heart-breaker. Haha... that Ty. Real cute."

Todd opened his eyes and watched Smithy. He was still lying in a heap, slightly to his side, rivulets of blood stringing across his back and shoulders. His knees were drawn up a little, his arms reaching up by his head, his cheek tight to the concrete. Hair fell across his face, only his eyes shining in the lights of the kennel.

The flow of blood had stopped, but the color was all still there. He was such a sorry mess.

"You see that puppy out there? Ty found him in a Dumpster. What's wrong with people, Manning? For them to do that? I don't get it. And he's harmless, you know?"

Inching a bit more, Smithy was now well within Todd's reach. He spoke more, telling the sad history of Breaker. The survivability of the black pit bull, the fact that Ty will never give up on that dog. "And likewise, we're never giving up on you. You-"

The words didn't get out. Todd sprang up and grabbed Smithy by the throat, slamming him to the ground, holding him there, breathing hard in his face. Smithy just looked up, despite hearing the gasps and spilled cups and his name and Todd's name being shouted by Ty and Joe. Even Tomas couldn't help but hear them. He came racing out the door in complete terror.

"What are you thinking, Jackson? Huh?" Todd lifted Smithy and slammed back down again on that hard concrete, but Smithy was protective and managed to keep his head strained so it was more his shoulders getting pummelled. He stayed still... still... until he reached up and petted Todd's hair, his shoulder, saying, "I'm in here as long as you're here. I ain't gonna hurt you. We're all here to protect you. We... are trying to protect you, from yourself, from whatever is out there. They way you protected us... for those long years."

"No! NO!" He dragged Smithy up and tossed him hard against the fence, the kid breathing hard but in one piece. He peeked out the fence and smiled, but then didn't.

Todd had looked down and said softly, "You can't protect me, little ones."

"Yes, we can," Ty said through the fence. "You made us fucking strong, man. Except maybe Tomas... he's still a pussy."

"Am not, bitch!"

"Despite the weak link, for the most part... we real good. We're here for you. All the way. To fuckin' hell if that's how it has to be."

"Bitch... ain't no pussy."

Smithy got close to Todd again. "You hear that? It's gonna be okay... whatever is going on, whatever it is... we're here. All of us. Even Royce, from inside, he'll do whatever he has to. He says that."

Todd backed into the corner, hiding in the shadows. He touched his face, his chest... "I think I'm already dead." He shivered and rubbed his face against the links. "Dead... dead..." His knees were up and he leaned heavily against the fence. His back now to it. He officially wanted to die. That aliveness back at the China Moon was all gone.

Soul-crushing pain... he was in it now. Holy shit, yes. He was at that precipice of fucking HELL. He looked across at Smithy. "It's time, don't you know. Now... I need you."

"Need me..."

"Bring me what I asked you to bring me. Please. Please... I can't save anybody anymore. I am so screwed... it is so over for me." His face crumpled in tears, "I cannot save you, or them... please JACKSON... bring me enough. Bring it to me."

"You want me to kill you."

"Yes," Todd whispered. His lips dry, cracked. "It is... time, don't you know. I can't do this. I can't do this." He began to cry, repeating over and over the same line.

Smithy crawled to him and just took Todd into his arms, Todd crying still, letting himself be held. Smithy kept repeating in return, "We're gonna save you... we're gonna save you. You gave everything for us... we're giving it in return. You hear me? You fuckin' hear me?"

Ty breathed out hard, holding onto that fence, "Jesus _fucking_ CHRIST." The Valium had kicked in, he knew it. He could see it all over Todd. That dead feeling he felt... was partly the Valium. And just like Breaker... that was when they wanted to die. When the truth of their existence comes out.

Neither Joe, nor Tomas, nor Ty had really seen this part of their protector. They had known he was broken like they were... but this... no. This he had well hid during his years in Statesville. Of course.

Ty looked across the way at his beloved Breaker. The dog had his nose to the fence, curious. He was laid out at the edge of the fence. Ty had drugged him earlier. The poor dog couldn't calm at the presence of all these people in his space. He'd been injuring himself just like Manning was, and really, he needed to stop. Ty walked to the cage, unlocked it, and knelt down. The dog looked at him with the saddest of smiled and petted him. Stroked that short hair, that thick body. The dog had pleading eyes that broke Ty's heart.

"You want me to kill you? You done fighting, boy?" He moved into the cage and moved the lethargic dog close to him. Kept petting him. "I just can't do it to you, I just can't. I don't care how much you want it. I have hope for you." The dog growled softly. As if angry that Ty didn't have the balls to put him out of his misery. He petted the little monster until the dog was breathing in a deep sleep. This was the only time, the only way to get close to him.

"Damn you, Breaker. Damn you for breaking my cold-ass heart."

He watched across the way, Joe and Tomas hanging onto that gate while Todd lay in Smithy's arms, just as lethargic as Breaker.

"Damn you, Manning."

Another car sounded in the driveway, and Joe grabbed the rifle. Cocked it. Opened the gate.

The drive had been long, slow. Tea and R.J. didn't say much, but Tea found herself in R.J.'s arms, resting quietly, watching the lights pass them by. It wasn't a sexual thing, but a true friendship thing. R.J. felt he understood Manning a little more, felt he understood Tea's crazy love a little more. Thought of a special someone who'd been inching closer to his heart lately. Pushed her away... he just wasn't ready.

They arrived and R.J. stepped outside the car, finding himself staring at a young Latino pointing a big-ass rifle at him. He put his hands up, "Hey... whoa... I'm R.J. Gannon... I'm a... I work with Manning. I know he's here."

Tea got out and introduced herself. "I'm Tea Delgado, I'm Todd's lawyer. I'm also his wife."

The rifle dropped slightly and Joe eyed them critically. "You got i.d. or something?"

Tea knew this was another one of Todd's crew. Those kids that Todd said were dangerous. She felt it. Hard to reconcile that idea with the delicate appearance of this beautiful man. She dug into her jean's pocket and pulled out her i.d. and a business card. She approached Joe carefully. Slowly.

"Here."

Joe studied it, nodded, looked at Tea up and down. Grinned a little. "_Como estas, bonita? Soy, Joe."_

"_Con much gusto, Joe. Han tenido mejores días," _she responded, smiling gently.

Joe chuckled, warmly, "Who knew just how much he liked Spanish." He lowered the gun, Tea noticing that he didn't fully let it go. If something went wrong, it would be up real fast. "Come on in," he said. He paused though, turning around. "You need to be warned. He's not good. I... uh... never seen him like this."

"He didn't appreciate being in a cage, I take it?" R.J. said.

"That...is an understatement. It fucked him up, but good. Ty gave him Valium, and it knocked him out enough so that Jackson could get inside that cage with him. Kinda comfort him. Kinda help him not be so scared." He huffed a little. Looked away.

Tea followed him in, keeping her eye on him. Looking around to see where Ty put Todd. She saw right away down the aisle, Ty in the cage with that terrible black dog. She remember how he said the only time he could get close to the dog was when he was drugged. Ty was petting the dog, tipped his head to Tea. That was when she noticed that Joe had stopped walking. She followed his gaze to the cage...

"Oh god..." Tea cried out, running to the gate. "Oh god... what did you do?"

Inside, Todd was lying back against Smithy, who himself had his back against the fence. The light showed pretty clearly the heavy damage that Todd had done to himself. His arms were out, his legs out... he was out cold.

R. J. cursed, "Don't put a man in a _cage_...George is gonna hear from me."

Smithy looked up, shaking his head. "We tried to calm him when he woke up... but he wouldn't have it. He was... out of his head. We had to wait him out... he did himself up good."

Tea was trembling with sadness... "Let me in. Can you bring some wet towels, antiseptic. God... damn that man. What the hell was wrong with George!"

Tomas introduced himself to Tea, turning when Joe had come back with goods. He opened the gate and Smithy made a move to ease Todd off his lap. Tea stopped him, smiling at him. She knelt down.

"No," she said. "I don't want to move him. I'll clean him up right where he's at. I don't want him on this cold concrete." She looked at Smithy. "Thank you. You're a good friend to get in here with him. You don't look...untouched. Did he hurt YOU?"

Smithy said in a soft voice, "He wants to die, Mrs. Manning. He asked me to make it happen. Whatever is going on... has really unhinged him. It wasn't just this cage that had him crazy with fear." He looked around... "I think this cage saved his life... for now. It did keep him here."

"I'm sure you're right." She began to get busy, cleaning him, cut by cut, bruise by bruise. Tears ran down her face without her even aware of it. Smithy helped turn Todd so Tea could get to his back, Tea's heart crumpling at each moan he made, each small breathless cry of pain. When they were done, Smithy said, "Get him undressed. He wet himself when he got high. Got sick, too. He wanted a shower a long time ago."

Tea breathed hard, cursing, "Goddamn heroin. Help me."

He did... Smithy then leaving them to their privacy and the cold concrete. Ty had left Breaker and offered to move Todd inside. Tea said, no. "Don't move him, he's in too much pain." So Ty got blankets, pillows, while Tea washed the rest of his body. She felt each bruise and cut and scar as if they had happened to her. She kept saying sorry because he kept crying out at each invasion. He kept telling the stranger who was washing him to not touch him, please, please, and it killed her. Covered him up at last. Everyone had gone inside. She could feel the relief in the air, that he was no longer being touched.

* * *

><p>It was around sunrise that Todd stirred, groaning with the pain of what he'd done to himself. Tea scrambled from her little bundle of blankets, waking at the sound of his agony. "Hey, hey... it's okay... I know it hurts... I'm here. It's me, Tea."<p>

He looked up and said nothing at first, then said softly, "I'm so sorry... so sorry..."

"I know, baby. I know. We're going to fix this. You are not going to die. No way in hell are you going to die."

He looked at her with such hopelessness, shaking his head. "I'm in hell...you know."

"Yes, I know."

"You gotta let me go, Delgado."

"No. NO! I will never let you go. Do you understand me?"

He shook his head... "There's no way out of this. I'm done. Do YOU understand? I'm out of light. I can't do it anymore."

"Baby... don't... don't say that... you have felt this before, and you have come back. I've seen it. This is how you felt in the hospital, before the heroin. I remember... and you lived through it. The feelings passed."

The sun shone down through the slats of the fencing and he reached out and played with the sunlight. Looked at the stripes across his hand and arm. Looked at the shadows... Gazed back at Tea again. He reached for her face, caressed her cheek. Raggedly, he said, "You're beautiful. I never deserved you or Lucia... or Reese... any of you."

"Stop it... please...STOP IT!"

He looked beyond her, whispered... "Let me go_._ Please please please...let me go..." He closed his eyes and slipped back into his Valium-induced sleep. Many minutes rolled by. Tea watched each rise and fall of his chest. But soon she saw that he was hardly breathing... almost like when he used heroin. She knew... he simply felt no need to breathe. It wasn't a drug, but his own lack of will.

She lay her head on his chest... shook him. Trying to get normality to his breaths.

"Come on," she said, listening, watching, "Come on..."

She sat up and remembered Brandy, remembered that dance they would do, the breathing... she blew in his face and he took a breath. When he didn't take another one, she blew in his face again...

… and he took a breath.

"Don't stop breathing, Todd Manning... don't you dare."

He took another breath... and then another. When he didn't... she blew again into his face and he took a breath.

"I'm never going to let you go, you bastard." She knew he was trying to die, she knew it. "Come on... They don't want you in hell, Todd. Hell isn't ready for you."

He took another breath, and let it out slowly... slowly... She blew in his face and he took a breath.

"God damn you...," Tea whimpered. Tears continued to roll down her face until shadows caught her attention. She glanced up at the movement in her periphery. Todd's crew, they stood at the chain links, hot fury on their beautiful faces.

"We're never letting him go either," Ty said. "Until there is truly no fuckin' hope. He has us. We're gonna fix this."

"You don't even know what it is," Tea said softly, sadly. She caressed Todd's hair, touched his shoulder. His face. "You have no idea."

"We been talking. We know he got FUCKED by Daryl Warren," groused Ty. "We brought that sonofabitch into our crew. I KNOW he's at the fuckin' bottom of this."

"How do you know?" Tea asked.

"He lied to us about getting raped. What kinda person does that? Manning figured that out and we all locked Daryl out of our business. But something happened after Horenda died... "

Tea looked up, a hard look. "What?"

"Todd was afraid," Smithy said. "In a way he never was before. And Daryl got cocky. And then he disappeared. This is about Daryl."

Nodding her head, Tea said, "Yes, it is."

The men looked at each other, looked back at her. "He was undercover wasn't he? A narc?" Joe asked. "He's holding Horenda over Todd's head. Fuckin' Daryl saw something."

Tea nodded.

"We're gonna fix this," Tomas said. "That motherfucker...he's gonna pay. Horenda deserved to die. He deserved what he got... he was a sick, sick bastard that nobody cared to stop in that fucking prison. He raped me, Royce, Smithy... and so many others. Over and over."

Ty Jerome eyed Tea, knowing she was thinking like a lawyer. Murder while lying in wait was a capital crime. Hard to defend short of insanity. He said quietly, "Todd didn't kill Horenda you know." Joe, Tomas, and Smithy... all stared right at Tea.

"What do you mean? Everyone is saying he did, HE's saying he did."

Smithy then said in a voice that didn't seem to match his gentle being, "I killed that sonofabitch. So did Tomas... Joe, Royce, and Ty. I lured that asshole into that hallway. We were all there to meet him. We cornered him. We raped him..."

Joe intervened, "Raped him with the biggest dick he ever saw... a wooden leg of a table."

Tomas finished, "And in ten minutes he was dead. But not before he watched us cut his dick off and stick it in HIS mouth. Todd helped us get away. He set the whole thing up. He got us our revenge, Diego's revenge. He was the last one out of that hallway."

Smithy then said, "And I think Daryl found him there. Because when Todd came out, when he got to the yard, he was afraid."

Tea's face crumpled with the horror of everything these men had been through. She nodded. Todd had said as much before Tea had left him. Circumstantial evidence, that didn't matter, evidence that kept him imprisoned for the last three years, and threatening to turn into the next twenty-five. Todd must have been holding the smoking gun...

In this case, a knife, dripping with Horenda's blood, covered with Todd's fingerprints. My GOD, this is Phillip Manning all over again. Where was the knife? Probably with Daryl Warren.

One plus one equals two. "He's the one who carved the word 'bitch' onto Horenda," Tea said, heavily.

Smithy... pressed his eyes shut. "He must have done that after we all ran." He looked at the others. "He did that for Diego."

She pressed a hand on Todd's chest. His breathing seemed to have evened out. Leaning down, she kissed his cheek, his warm lips, felt his slow even heart beat.

Ty repeated, "We're gonna fix this, Mrs. Manning. We promise you. It ain't right he take credit for Horenda's... justifiable death. It was OUR killing, OUR revenge. And Todd... he brought that revenge over for Diego Loriz. He doesn't deserve this." They all wandered into the house, a fire in their step, a hurrying quality to their talk. They didn't know about MK and the testimony. But maybe... maybe there was something here? There definitely was. Had to be.

"You hear that," Tea said...whispering into Todd's ear, "Those boys, the ones you said you were a monster to? Those boys you damaged, that you practically murdered in their sleep? They're here to protect you. They will... protect you. It's about time someone fought...for you. Baby, I think they would die for YOU."

She considered the men the boys had become... those dangerous... men. She felt their power and had no doubts they could move mountains. The sun warmed her face and she closed her eyes feeling the heat, like that of a tropical sea. Hope... she thought, felt like such a thing.

**To be continued...**


	25. Chapter 25

Caged Chapter 25

The sun lit the black of Todd's closed eyes and woke him with a start, but he kept those lids shut tight. The pain throughout his body sent dreamy images of Statesville and his crew of little vipers pounding through his head. He could smell Tea, her perfume, leather. He shuddered with a memory of Jackson's body, a familiar feel. He cleared his throat, rubbed the fuzz off his tongue with his hand, and took a peek at his surroundings. Reaching out and touching the metal cage, he instinctively knew that he wasn't in any danger, wasn't in Statesville, and that he had to pee like a fucking racehorse. He sat up, touching the soft blankets, and sniffed at the cool air. Tried to piece together the past couple of days - all he got was a whole lot of bullshit kinda ending at the China Moon Motel.

But that wasn't right 'cause it really had ended _here_. Dogs were barking. There was one right across from him, sitting in another cage, who seemed to be smiling. Tongue happily dangling. Brown mottled fur. Looked like... a pit bull.

_Ty Jerome's kennel. Your lawyer said to stay put._

Looked to be right. Fit that hanging tongue and all that barking and panting and whimpering. Had vague recollections, voices telling him exactly why shit was, the way it was.

_We're all here to protect you. We... are trying to protect you, from yourself, from whatever is out there. They way you protected us... for those long years._

The dog barked and went back to smiling a toothy smile. Todd shook his head at the dog and snarled, the dog getting to his feet and backing up. Not smiling any more. He checked the crook of his arm, seeing a bruise from the needle. Yeah... that had certainly been a reality. He also noted that he didn't have a stitch of clothing on. He looked up and then moved to stand. Grabbed hold of the links, let go, and took a couple of steps, tripping hard against the cage wall. He dropped to his knees, and rested a moment before grabbing up that blanket around him and standing once more.

Looked around for something to pee into... found the bucket. Shit. Did what he had to do.

Shook the locked cage door a bit, but then sighed. The night sort of lurked in the back of his mind and he checked out the condition of his body. He hurt all over - felt the bruising and cuts. Felt an overwhelming sense of dying, and a whole lot of vitriol because he was..._alive._

Yeah, that's right. That was clear.

He'd wanted to die and had a hard time doing it. Had a hard time getting people to _let _him die.

"_I'm never going to let you go, you bastard. Hell isn't ready for you."_

"Well, ain't that just grand," he groaned before plopping back down, dropping his head on his knees and wishing, just wishing, to be high again. Somewhere in his head, he knew that was why he was locked in a cage.

It took a little effort but R.J. convinced Tea to leave Todd to his heroin-Valium dreams and come inside the house to get some much-needed sleep. Once securing her in a guest room that Ty had designated for the one woman in the house, he had gone back outside to lock that goddamn cage. Stood for some time, eying dead-to-the-world Manning. He returned to the house to find the whole of the crew out cold, too, on couches, the floor, and the other bedrooms. Including his very own bodyguard. Too big for a couch or any of the beds, all seven-foot-two inches of Jamal lay sprawled on the floor, hanging on to a blanket like a kid. Snoring away.

Some bodyguard he was.

R.J. tried sleeping, but gave up after a couple of hours. He finally got off the couch, and made himself coffee. Thought about the shit Manning found himself in. While the guy had long and well earned R.J.'s boundless hate, the FBI earned it more. He'd like nothing more than to screw whatever plan they had for MK and Todd Manning. Police agencies sometimes need screwing, to remind them that they DO NOT run this fucking world.

He drank slowly, listening to those dogs.

Tea had one thing wrong - Todd wasn't a typical C.I. Most confidential informants feed whatever agency they work for a constant flow of information. Todd didn't appear to be doing that - he was all business as usual with a murder rap hanging over his head. They were just waiting to bring the axe down at which time THEN Manning was supposed to turn over shit he knew. This gave R.J. wiggle room on solutions.

So things stacked up so far: Rolon had a plan to get out of MK, Tea had something on Pedro via the Serrano kid she was representing, and Todd had the whole kit and caboodle in his back pocket. There had to be a way outta this that would give the FBI a little of what they wanted while keeping the Manning-Delgado household in safety, here in Llanview.

Noise from outside other than barking dogs caught R.J.'s attention so he got up, peeked through the window, and saw that Todd was awake - must have fallen against the chain links. The dogs were making more noise, happy noise that the new dog was among the living.

R.J. got another cup, poured some hot coffee in it, added more to his own cup, and went outside. The day was a gorgeous one - the sun was shining, couldn't have been less than fifty degrees. Spring was in the air.

R.J. walked over to the cage and looked at Manning who was sitting up, blankets around his shoulders and legs, knees up, head down, arms wrapped around his legs, looking pathetic as hell. When Manning glanced up at his visitor, his longish hair hung limply around his face preventing R.J. from seeing even more into the dark hell in which the guy was clearly living. There was a bucket in the corner of the cage and R.J. could see its purpose. Now THAT was pathetic.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," R.J. purred. He knelt and slid the coffee in through the little opening in the cage door. "Got a little something for you. And not de-caf. None of that Valium either."

Todd gazed at R.J., then the coffee. Took some moments to decide he wanted it. With a soft, barely audible grunt, Todd reached for the cup and picked it up in his hands, his legs falling flat. He seemed to have accepted his situation for the moment.

"You know where you are?"

Todd said nothing, just drank his coffee slowly.

"This is Ty Jerome's place. Where he houses fightin' dogs... dogs that nobody wants." R.J. waited for something but Todd wasn't giving anything. "You know _why_ you locked up here? Like them other dogs that nobody wants?"

The coffee cup tipped, the silence hard and purposeful.

"Apparently, shit's gone critical thanks to the Serrano attack on your people. So your lawyer... he say you gotta be here... 'cause your lawyers need you under control while they figure out how the hell to fix your situation without you fucking everything up. And shootin' heroin? That is FUCKING EVERYTHING UP."

A growling noise came from the cage and R.J. just shook his head. "What is that? You pissed off? That it?" R.J. sniffed, breathed in hard and got down on his haunches. Holding the cage with one hand, he looked solid at Todd.

"The hell's wrong with you, Manning? You got caught with your pants down and NOW you wanna die? What a punk-ass move. Leaving your wife and your children to clean up your messes as always." R.J. hissed, "Look at me, bitch."

Todd did - a cold dead stare through that stringy hair.

"It made me sick last night to see Tea clean you up from your little heroin party. Washing your dick, balls, and ass of the piss and puke... wiping those cuts and bruises from your mind-fucked temper tantrum. You hear me? YOU MAKE ME SICK. I hope they keep your punk-ass locked up in here... you deserve nothin' less. And SHE doesn't deserve YOU."

"Fuck you..."

R.J. laughed, "Now he talkin'."

Todd took a mouthful of coffee and spit-sprayed it through the fence at R.J. who fell back, unable to escape it.

"Yeah, jus' like the animal you are." R.J. wiped his face of the spat coffee, then shook the fence, as if checking it for strength. "Wanna tell me what the fuck is goin' on? So maybe, jus' MAYBE I can help save your stupid ass? And therefore... save your family?"

"Go away, Gannon," Todd said in a ragged, exhausted voice. "Go away before I piss on you."

"I don't doubt you'd do that."

Thing was, R.J. was true in his efforts to get the full story. Didn't blame Manning for being so upset. He WAS in deep shit. It DID seem hopeless. And it WAS goddamn humiliating to have his wife clean him up from his nightmare addiction to insanity and dope... in a kennel cage. That... and the fact that he had managed to stay alive despite all his earnest efforts.

R.J. might have offered kind words, but... the moment he laid eyes on this motherfucker his mouth started spewing the hate. He got close again to the fence and offered his _mea culpa._ "Look, I mean it. I wanna help you. Talk to me. I ain't the FBI, I ain't the LPD, I'm not MK. I'm just..."

"A member of the Posse. You're as sunk in as the rest of 'em."

"I'm just... an old... fellow ex-con. I know where you're comin' from."

"You don't know anything."

R.J. sunk down, holding onto the fence. "Manning... what evidence does this Warren have on you?"

Todd swallowed, lifted his head to look at R.J. "You can't help me, man, just... go... away."

"What evidence? Come on!"

Todd shook his head, knowing he had to be locked up. He had it all planned. If they opened the door, he'd act all humble and compliant. Then he'd grab that rifle above the kitchen door, demand a car, drive to Llanview, score some dope and get fucking high again. He'd get enough to keep himself in bliss for a month. He licked his lips just thinking of it. He was as sickening as R.J. said because he envisioned this whole thing going down... without ever thinking of clothes. Or cash. He'd be naked. Doing all that fucked-up crazy shit. What drug dealer would even sell dope to a naked man? Who had no cash?

He figured the rifle would help.

R.J. sighed, leaning his head against the fence... "Come on, Manning. Work with me."

"Get me a needle and some 'h,' then we'll talk."

"Jesus CHRIST."

"Yeah... whatever."

"Know what...I ain't goin' anywhere. I'm jus' gonna sit here, drinking my piss-flavored coffee, smelling your dirty ass, and wait you out." And he did. R.J. sat in the sun like a lizard, drinking that coffee... waiting Todd out.

After a long while, Todd said very quietly, "How do you know about Warren?"

R.J. looked through the links at Manning, met him eye to eye. Said in a serious tone, "Tea told me. Your boys filled in the blanks. He's some undercover dude who's using the Horenda killing against you."

Todd stayed quiet a while. R.J. finished his coffee. Set the cup down. Birds were singing, dogs were periodically barking, hungry no doubt.

"He has a knife," Todd finally said.

"That all?"

"He's a witness to me in the laundry hallway, cutting up a very dead Horenda."

"Motherfuck..."

"Yeah. Looked bad."

"Prints and the blood... and an eyewitness account."

"Pretty much. Looked like I killed him."

"What else?"

"I don't know... drug possession, trafficking of contraband... other some shit."

"That's it."

"Then there's a whole thing... of people in Statesville... "

"What thing?"

"A thing... people...that were... you know... had their tits cut off. Just... a thing. And it looks like... I did that."

"Like living people... like tattoos?"

"Like dead people. Like trophies of serial killings. I didn't do any of it!" He paused, shrugged. "I did cut off... Horenda's tit. Fine, I admit that... cut off his tit and cut the word BITCH into his forehead...set up the whole thing... cold-ass murder. FINE! I deserve the death penalty, but so did he! He deserved what he GOT!"

"You know what, I ain't even gonna ask. How this shit comes down on you..."

"It was for them. My crew. They needed it. I needed it. For... a kid in Statesville who never got... shit."

"This Diego."

Todd whispered, "Yeah. _This _Diego."

"Did the guards know about Horenda? Your boys, they told me some fuckin' horrible shit that guy did."

"The admins must have known. Nobody has power like that without people letting it happen. Hell, they thought I was doing shit to the kids... yet they let me hide behind a sheet. Never told ME to take that down."

"A sheet?"

"Yeah, I could cover the bars of my cell. Whenever, for whatever. I wasn't the only one either." He paused, touched the blankets, said softly, "Anything could happen behind that sheet."

R.J. let the words hang in the air a moment. "Shit. We gotta pursue that. Much as I am... loathe... to do this, I think Buchanan might be helpful there."

"Awww... come ON. He wants me inside as much as YOU do."

"I am serious. I sense... something in him."

"Get the fuck outta here... don't forget that Buchanan would LOVE to see MK go down. And I am a major key to that."

"I'm a jus' gonna take note. Leave this to me, Manning."

"Shit has changed at Statesville, ever since the new warden came on."

"Did Horenda stop raping kids when she came on board?"

"No."

"Well, there you go."

"Whatever, you're fuckin' cray-cray."

R.J. laughed and looked at Todd. "You talk about _me _being crazy? How much you remember of yesterday?"

He paused. "Not a whole lot. My body tells me I was less than dignified at being here."

"Could say that. You do remember you tried offin' yourself at the China Moon."

"That, yes. But I remembered I had to fix my car and changed my mind."

"You know, I have a feeling you bein' serious."

"I am."

"Jesus CHRIST."

"Fuck you, Gannon..."

"What about your kids? TEA?"

"A car doesn't fix itself!"

R.J. laughed, started laughing a little harder at the unbelievable thinking, "You, you the big winner on crazy, man."

Todd didn't laugh - didn't smile. His hell was real. Real... goddamn awful. "I realized that if I took that whole syringe in... I'd miss out on getting high."

The laughing stopped, and R.J. sighed. "I have a feeling... you're serious."

Todd shook his head and buried his face in his hands. "I am." He looked at the cage's door. "Keep it locked, Gannon. Keep that goddamn door locked."

* * *

><p>Tea didn't hear any details, but she did hear Todd's tone of voice, saw that he was talking to R.J... and she was glad of it. In a distant sort of way. Sleep had reminded herself of certain realities. The sun showed her undeniable truths. She had lost her feelings of empathy. All she wanted was to wash her hands of him... run home to her children, to her little law practice. Go back to defending the defenseless.<p>

Nevertheless, George had woken her up, calling her cell phone, and she railed against his locking Todd up.

"Do you know what that did to him?"

"Yes, I had a feeling he would be a little... _disoriented_. But I couldn't have him out there, doing god-knows-what. And Tea, he's an I.V. drug user again."

"That's what hospitals are for!"

"And how well did that go for him the day he decided to shoot up heroin?"

Tea sighed audibly, said in a breathy voice, "He left the hospital to do that."

"Exactly. He's got to be in hiding for a while, not actively trying to end his life. I'm working on some ideas, trying to keep him from testifying, keep him from prison."

"I don't get any of this... how long have you known about the deal he cut with the FBI?"

"Not that long. I was aware of some earlier stuff to keep him from serving more time beyond his original five. I was involved in that. But THIS... only a couple of months. I haven't much time to sort through the technicalities. He's been on his own on this thing."

"How are we going to hide him?" she asked. "Doesn't that put him, and us, more at risk? MK will be looking for him."

"No, the Mambo Kings are all under a self-imposed lock-down after the massive shooting yesterday. They are... re-grouping, for lack of a better word. AND, Pedro right now is assuming Todd has fallen into his addiction again. He doesn't like it, but is kind of okay with Todd staying low a while."

"He needs to be in treatment. He's very sick again."

"Well, maybe the kennel is as good a place to get that treatment. I'll send someone to work with him, if he'll have it. You should come back to Llanview, though. He'll be fine there. I want to talk to you. Not on this phone."

"Why? Is it bugged?"

"Uh... no, I want a face-to-face conversation with a fellow lawyer about a mutual client OFF the phone because it's just ethically better."

"Oh... right, of course. I'm sorry, I've gotten a little paranoid."

George chuckled and they ended their conversation. After freshening up a little, Tea walked into R.J. coming back inside. He pointed a finger at her, "Your husband... has got a real problem... with drugs."

"Oh... I had no idea." She looked at R.J. Crossed her arms. Cocked her head. "What a shock."

"I'm gonna take off... you want a ride back? I can send a car for you later if you want to stay."

"No... I'll go with you. Let me say a few things to... Mr. Manning...first."

"You got it."

Tea walked outside and went to the cage. The dogs were barking, wide awake, excited to have new company. Breaker growled and barked that strange little sound of his. He settled back and simply watched. Tea got close to the cage that held her sorry-looking husband, who'd since lay down on the blankets. He saw her at the door.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

"You got a key?"

"I do."

"Then... come on in."

Tea unlocked the door and it swung open. She saw Todd look at that door... saw him force his eyes away from the escape route back to her. Saw the addiction... all over him. She bit her lip.

Standing tall in the doorway, her boots looked like they could poke holes into Todd's flesh. The two simply studied each other. Then, he crawled to her feet, the blankets falling away from him. Wrapped his arms around her legs, curled his body around her. "I'm sorry," he whispered. She knelt down to him.

"You're sick," she said. "You need help, and I can't give it to you." She rubbed his shoulder, caressing him carefully. He'd truly hurt himself in his fight with the cage. She ran her hands up his spine. The hardness of his body never failed to impress her, to wound her... as R.J. said, why should he be so prepared for war, all the time?

Because he's still in prison.

She let go of him, stopped the touch. He in turn, released her, feeling her iciness. He grabbed the blankets around himself, sat back against the fencing. "I love you, no matter what I do."

"I know that. But it is definitely in your own way. For you to use a needle again, is the most..." She was angry and she couldn't help but show it. "How could you?" She hissed. "How could you do that to us? You could have died..."

"That was my intent."

She breathed out hard, whispered, "How could you."

He said nothing, staring back at the ground. He had no defense. Yesterday, it all seemed so simple. So clear. Like writing on a page. Today... not so much.

She wiped her eyes angrily. She got to her feet. "I have to leave. You're to stay here. Don't follow me home. You need to STAY. George will be visiting. Sending someone to talk to you... about the drug situation."

"I got no clothes... Ty's too small a guy. I'm stuck here unless I want to drive naked."

"I don't put it past you. But... that won't be necessary because I brought you things. Packed a bag before coming here last night. Ty has it. Clothes, personals, your medication. By the way, it's official... you've lost your driving privileges because of the seizures. Once you're seizure-free for a year, and hopefully you will be when you get your medication under control... you can drive again."

Todd looked up at her, "I can't stay here... I have to protect you. I need-"

"YOU need to do nothing. R.J. _He'll protect me_." She knew what her words would do... but she couldn't help it. She spoke the truth. Putting her hand out to soothe Todd's rising ire that she could see in his face, in his suddenly cold eyes, she said, "R.J. has people... out there who will do fine to watch over us. But... you staying here... does the MOST to protect me and the kids. YOU staying away from heroin... and MK for now... PROTECTS US, more than R.J. ever can."

After a moment, he seemed to settle back from the sudden heat of anger. She turned to leave, but stopped. Found it hard to let him go. "We ARE going to do something," she said. "George is working on it, your boys... they are too. Despite their rather... complex relationship with you."

Quietly, he said, "Complex." After another second or two, he added, "I'm not really hopeful on any of this help." He started to talk again, but Tea stopped him. She moved to him once again and got down to his level, placing her fingertips on his lips, "Be hopeful. Please...please..."

He sighed and Tea then hugged him, wrapping her arms around him. He in turn, tightened his hold on her. "I'll try," he said.

When Tea got to the door, she turned, "Do I really have to lock this door? You're more than someone who needs to be...locked in a cage. Are you going to try to leave?"

He studied her some moments, wishing things were different. "I won't leave. Unless that fucking R.J. oversteps his bounds."

"He won't."

She didn't linger. He got to his feet and stood at the gate and watched her until she went out the front. She gave him one more glance before disappearing from view. He heard the car doors open and close and then stood listening as the car drove into a haze he couldn't see, the engine growing more faint the farther away the car went.

He pressed his forehead against the fence, surprised nobody had come out here to lock the cage's door. He ached like hell, physically, emotionally... he wanted to get high again. God, god, that had been brilliant. He shook with want, with a desire that made his mouth water.

If someone gave him the stuff... he'd do it again, without thinking twice. Like he'd done yesterday. My god, just like before. Madness. Hell with everything. He breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind of the mind-clouding junk. Trying to see his children - trying to feel Lucia in that shower...

_I don't want you to die like all those other soldiers._

_I'm no soldier, baby girl. Just a goddamn gangster ex-con drug addict. _

Tightening the blankets around him, he walked the kennel's main aisle. The dogs were hopping in each of the cages. Mostly pit bull terriers, all colors, all different levels of tattered. He couldn't help but smile at them, at their unadulterated joy at seeing the new resident out of his cage. He knelt at a couple of cages and let them sniff his fingers, let them lick his fingers. He walked a little more, keeping his eye on one at the very end of the aisle. The dog hadn't stopped watching him. He was quiet. Serious. Definitely not hopping with joy.

Todd greeted a few more dogs before landing at Breaker's cage. The two stared at each other a long while, Breaker finally dropping his gaze to Todd's feet. Todd knelt down and Breaker made a low growling noise. Barked in a weird choked way at him. But then silenced. Todd had his fingers on the chain links, holding himself up. He sniffled, then turned and sat down. Back to the fence.

Turning his head, turning his shoulder slightly, he looked at Breaker through the links, said, "You're one fucked-up dog. You got a bad scar across your face. I do too." Todd leaned back against the cage. The dog sniffed at him through the fencing, sniffed the blood that had seeped out over night along Todd's back. He tried to lick the wounds but couldn't reach. His tongue lapped at the metal.

"Sucks being locked up. If you were high, it wouldn't be so bad. And let me tell you, Valium ain't doin' the trick. You ought to try smack... that'll make the cage seem like nothin'." He sighed, playing with the blanket, touching it, smoothing it out on his lap. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"Problem is... that smack... will fuck you up. It'll take you by the balls... and never let go. Thing is... you're glad to have your sack in its bite. You lose everything, your family, your money, all sense of decency and morality... you'll lose your LIFE. And when it's all gone, and you're in the gutter, alone... still you say, bite me harder. And harder still." Todd sighed, cursed under his breath.

The dog snuffled against the cage, finally stretching out at the edge.

"You hungry? I'm fuckin' starved. I'm a get us some food."

Todd got up, Breaker getting to his feet, making that half-bark once again. "I'll be back."

Getting into the kitchen, Todd dug around in the refrigerator, pulled out some cold cuts for himself. Saw a raw steak in strips on a plate. "You'll like that, I bet."

He got a plate and stacked it with the meats. He got an apple. Went back to the fridge and got some cheese. Listened for people, heard nothing. He went back outside and walked past barking, hopping dogs, back to Breaker.

Todd sat on the ground and began to eat. One for him, one for Breaker. One for him, one for Breaker. The two shared the meal, Todd feeding the black scarred pit bull the raw steak through the opening in the gate. The dog happily gobbled up the food, licking Todd's fingers to be sure to get every bit of food off them. Todd found himself smiling, realizing he hadn't smiled since he last saw his own kids. Not like this. Not without agenda, not without hidden meaning.

The dog bit gently at the gate. When Todd looked up, he saw the gate was unlocked. He shrugged and stood, opening the door. The dog casually walked through the opening and stood looking up at Todd. Panting in the sun. Todd sank down again to the ground and the dog sniffed at his wounds. Looked Todd in the eye. Moved closer to Todd and licked the opened wounds. Long nurturing strokes of his tongue that made Todd smile again. Then... almost made him cry.

He nodded, sighed. "I know, I didn't handle the whole cage thing as well as you do. It was one fucked-up night. I'm sure you've had nights like that." Scratching his head, he added, looking at his wounds, "I seriously do not remember anything about what I did to myself. I must have been... throwing myself against the fencing."

Todd got the plate back on his lap and fed the dog more cheese, the two essentially sharing an apple. Todd would bite piece off and give it to the dog. When he was done, Breaker lay his big head on Todd's covered thigh. Todd petted him, the dog closing his eyes, seeming to enjoy the affection.

The kitchen door opened and Todd looked up to a frozen Ty Jerome at the end of the aisle, Ty's mouth open and his hand out in a warning gesture. "Manning... Manning... uh...be very careful. Don't even move. Holy shit..."

The dog opened his eyes and looked at Ty. Growled hard and low for a few seconds. Todd shushed him. The dog looked up at Todd and put his head back down to resume his snooze.

Todd wasn't sure what was going on. "He's fine. The gate was unlocked, I figured..."

"I made a mistake, I must have forgotten... Todd, that dog is real... dangerous... what the hell? Are you _petting_ him?"

"He's fine. We shared breakfast. I think he's my friend."

Ty moved a little closer and the dog lifted his head, growling a little but less than before. Breaker looked at Todd, and then quieted for sure.

"Sonofabitch...I don't even know what to say. Yeah... I think he's declared you his person. Really strange." Ty squatted down, keeping his distance, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He looked at Todd, who was definitely worse for wear. He wondered if Breaker was still under the influence of the Valium. He just had no explanation other than maybe Todd being wounded brought out the 'paternal' side of the dog. Or maybe... Breaker just recognized a fellow un-fixable being.

Shaking his head, Ty said softly, "That dog is a killer. He'll tear your throat out, even if he loves you. He was used for dog fights until he couldn't stop himself from fighting anyone and everyone. The owners shot him, left him for dead. I got him from the pound - he was declared too vicious to live. They told me I have a year to make him civil. He hasn't been, and it's over a year now. I was told... to euthanize him. I can't normally approach him, unless he's drugged. That dog is on Valium... quite a bit. But... it long wore off."

Todd was looking at Breaker on his lap as Ty was talking. Something struck Todd and he felt tears roll down his face. Whispered to Breaker as he pet the dog's damaged body, "I know what that's like, I really... fucking... know what that's like." The dog looked up at him, made a little growl and licked gently at the blanket.

"God... damn," Ty said, shaking his head. "Don't even know what to say, other than be really careful when you move him back into his cage. He really is... dangerous."

"I'll do that," Todd said.

Ty didn't move, just watched, studying the amazing change that had come over Breaker. He didn't think the dog was cured or anything, but rather... that the dog had simply found a person that seemed to soothe him, or... maybe this was someone who was truly stronger than him. Breaker seemed to have met his match... he'd listen to THIS guy. Ty had no idea why that would be though... it wasn't like Breaker hadn't met people who'd kill him. But Manning... Ty just didn't know.

The other men came out, Tomas, Smithy, and Joe. When Todd looked up... he saw them all, beyond who was there in person - Royce, Kenny, and Diego. Even Brayden and Darryl. Saw that old crew staring him down. They kept their distance. Something like shame came over Todd and he sighed, chewed his lip. Pet the dog. Breaker lifted his head and eyed the men, and Todd could tell he was evaluating the danger, the threat to his person.

"It's okay," Todd said. "They got some idea in their heads..."

Breaker got to his feet and faced the crowd. Sat back on his haunches like the monster he was, showing off that massive chest, his deadly jaw, next to his chosen person. Todd sniffed, cleared his throat, got to his own feet. Hanging on to that blanket. Knocked his head back, all that raw power showing in that slender black-tatted heft. It was time for business.

In a low ragged voice, Todd said, "What you have for me, kids o' mine?"

Smithy grinned in that crooked way... and the other three smiled, too, varying levels of tattered on their faces.

"We... have an agreement," Joe said. "Very simple..."

The sun beamed down and the future shook a little... right along with a shake of Breaker's heavy head and body.

"I'm all ears," Todd said quietly.

To be continued...


	26. Chapter 26

Caged Chapter 26

Rule on murder in prison: Don't get caught with a knife in hand, standing over the dead body.

_The day had finally come: the killing of Jessie Horenda. A late-spring day that seemed like every other day except the breeze carried pollen, the promise of summer, and the hope of release. A glorious, terrifying day that had Todd's brain humming, the boys on edge, all of them itching to get it done. _

_The only one who seemed unaffected by his planned death was Horenda himself. In fact, the night previous had been business as usual. His routine hadn't stopped, not ever. A Serrano whore, a new one that Todd couldn't get, couldn't negotiate for, had been cornered in the showers. Joe Rodriguez wore only his towel, carried shampoo, soap... walked cautiously towards the showers because he noticed a bit of a crowd leaving. They said nothing, ignoring him, as they filed out. Joe heard noise. He knew he shouldn't, but he did. Crept into the large lit room. His heart and stomach clenched..._

_He had come upon the end of the show, witness to one last thrust by Horrenda. The guy stood up, dick still hard, drool on his chin. Gave one last kick to the boy's back as he lay on the cold tiles, unconscious, beaten bad. Blood oozed beneath his body. _

_Horrenda smiled at Joe as he walked past him... "Could have been you, eh, Rodriguez? Sorry I never got to taste you. Why don't you get Manning to come lick him clean?"_

_It had taken everything for Joe to do nothing... to watch Horrenda walk away, to turn on his heels and let the guards find the kid. He walked in a daze, shampoo and soap in hand, motivated to move only because the following day would be Horrenda's true homecoming into hell. He walked back to his cell. Dropped his things on his cot and got dressed again. Walked to Manning who was huddled in his own cell, engaged in a conspiratorial discussion with Rolon. The two looked up at Joe who spilled the ugly in a calm voice, saying, "He's still at it. In the showers."_

_The two looked at each other and Todd sniffed, "Tomorrow. Tomorrow it's done." He looked hard at Joe who just stood there in a bit of shock. Finally hissed, "Keep your shit together, Rodriguez, or I'll _make_ you keep it together." The two returned to their talk like nothing. Rolon, as promised, had helped get serious shanks for the boys, and alibis. People would say they'd all been on the b-ball court during the killing. Why they ended up never vouching for Todd remained a mystery. Darryl probably had something to do with that. But the boys ended up covered. _

_Joe and Ty were cellies. When lights-out came, they practiced ripping those deadly shanks out of their sleeves, practiced the deadly uppercut, until guards told them to stay in their cots. Repeated in barely audible whispers the plan - the time, the moving into position, the words they'd say. When six a.m. hit, Joe threw up, and Ty said, "Keep it together, man, this has to happen."_

"_We could get the death penalty... we could get-" _

_Ty slammed him against the wall, said in a tight low voice, "You're gonna fuck this up for everybody... keep it FUCKING together!" _

_Joe nodded, "Okay, okay, okay..."_

_Softening, Ty pressed his hot forehead against Joe's, "We got this. It's gonna be clean. That bastard's gonna be dead. And we... we're gonna be FINE."_

_Breakfast came and went. Group therapy, classes, morning shift for work, lunch, recreation for the afternoon workers. The afternoon hit. The schedule shifted. The boys played b-ball like usual, pretending, aiming for normality. Todd smoked on the bleachers, legs stretched out, spread on the bench below. He watched everything. Met with MK. Met with the Posse. The boys waited for his move, passed the ball, ran the court up and down under that cool spring sun. _

_At some point, Todd tossed the cigarette stub, a still-lit thing. He got to his feet and wandered towards the back classrooms. The kids, one by one, left in varying directions, the last being Smithy Jackson who now had a job in the laundry. Horrenda worked in the laundry, too. For weeks, Jackson had been working Horrenda. Eying him. Acting depressed around Todd. Acting like life with Manning rivaled the misery of life with Horrenda. Today was the day. Jackson had taken a big risk... had approached Horrenda directly the previous day. Whispered a plea... said he'd talk to him today, in the laundry. By the dryers, where it's noisy, so no one will hear._

_And that was key... had to get Horrenda into the hallway behind the laundry. _

_See, Dixon had given Todd access to a quiet rarely-used hallway - he sometimes shuffled to the work buildings through the laundry from the administration building where Dixon's office was located. After using it once or twice, he realized just how empty it was. That there were no cameras there. No record of entrance or egress. Never thought much of it other than kicks until he spied Horrenda working the tables. Noticed the laundry guards weren't really aware of that hallway. Todd would suddenly appear in that bright work room, the guards would look at him funny. Like where the fuck had he come from? _

_So yeah, a plan. He'd unlock the hallway door that went to the laundry. Get Horrenda there. The hallway was dark, narrow. The door from the laundry was behind the massive dryers. Hard to see. A perfect murder room. _

_The escape path?_

_A vent that went up through the ceiling of a locked classroom that now housed archived files, a room in which he sometimes did research for Dixon. He learned of the vent by accessing blueprints of the prison that he'd been able to locate through the computer in Dixon's office. He'd figured out her password. Easy shit. She trusted him too much. Let him work there... let him spend hours studying shit. He'd broken the lock to the old classroom so he could access the room undetected any time. _

_The boys reached the hallway at different times. There they waited, with Todd._

_When the time came, Jackson got his sexy on. Got his scared, broken self on. Walked up to Horrenda and said, "Manning's killing me... I need to get away from him. Let me prove my loyalty to you, to get back to the Serranos. I been trained in certain... arts. I can take a lot more now." Horrenda fell like a house of cards, predictable. God, so predictable. Horrenda would get one over on Manning - take back one of his own. And get the benefits of Manning's... uses... of the boy._

_Horrenda thought he was smart, thought he was clever, said, "That door, that goes to a black place... prove yourself to me, there."_

_How did he know? Joe and Ty had taken care of that, gossiping close enough to Horrenda for him to hear. How'd he know it would be unlocked? Gossip. Every Thursday it was just unlocked for maintenance. _

_Jackson pretended to be scared, "Where? What's there...?"_

"_Just a quiet place for you to prove yourself."_

"_Not now... now?" For all the hard work Dixon had done to clean up the place, the prison still had problems. The kid had failed to check into the laundry job so no record showed he was there. He showed up anyway and nobody said anything. Jackson knew he was forgettable. Guards would never recall that he'd been there because the paperwork said he wasn't. He and Horrenda stood near the dryers. Behind piles of dry towels awaiting folding. White immovable mountains. _

_Horrenda's voice got thick, "Now." _

_Jackson said "Okay... but... I'm not ready..."_

_Horrenda, oh-so-predictable, got hot. Walked close to Jackson and grabbed the kid's crotch. "Get hard," he said, rubbing. Jackson did-he knew how to do that. Closed his eyes and pretended other things. Thought about those nights when Manning was high and desperate. Imagined himself grinding against Todd's body, against his stiff cock, mouth on mouth, skin against skin. Todd's hard hands on Jackson's hips... _

_It worked because Horrenda shivered at Jackson's impressive hard-on and turned the kid around, pushed him towards the door. "Get in there, now," Horrenda growled, real fuckin' hot. Jackson prayed like HELL that the crew was inside that hallway, in the back, in the dark. Opened the unlocked door. Horrenda must have gotten to know this space - he'd pushed inside of the hallway so easily. So familiarly. _

_The two fell through the opened door and when it closed it was like the closing of so many other doors. The future, the present, the past, today, tomorrow, yesterday. The hallway was an empty space of time - no location, no connection to reality. A timeless empty windowless place. _

_Jackson kept moving deeper and deeper into the dark, Horrenda seeming to chase him. Their breaths were hard, tense. Jackson finally turned around, faced the monster. Looked up at the guy who'd raped him countless times, who'd humiliated him over and over, who for all intents and purposes killed Jackson's predecessor, Diego Loriz. _

"_Show me your dick," Jackson said, his jaw tight, his face a mask of hate._

_Horrenda laughed at the change in Jackson, confused, "The fuck...?" He looked into the shadows, darker because the laundry had been so light. Looked beyond the kid in front of him._

_He heard something behind Jackson, behind him. Like rats. Like waiting wolves. _

_He turned hard. And found himself looking at Todd Manning. Who smiled, light eyes, full of dark raw energy. "Show me your dick," he said in a ragged deep voice._

_It was then that the assault started. _

_The kids had told Manning that they would do it - they wanted to do it. Todd had argued, but they demanded it. We need it, they had said. Especially Smithy Jackson. Before Horrenda's tongue reached the roof of his mouth, shanks stabbed him in the back, over and over. He spun around in time for a full frontal assault, slamming to the concrete on his back. His lungs had been pierced, his heart, kidneys, stomach, too, but not enough to kill him. Not yet. Blood gurgled in his mouth, his eyes wide in terror, disbelief._

_Jackson stood over him. Reached down, yanking down the pants, he grabbed that dick that Horrenda liked to show so much. He slashed at the base until it came loose. Horrenda was screaming, but there was no sound because he couldn't breathe for all the blood. Jackson yanked on it hard, tearing the skin. Shoved it into Horrenda's bloody mouth. Jackson stared at him, cold as fucking ice. Ty and Royce flipped the guy over and yanked down his pants further. With hands wrapped in bits of a torn sheet creating makeshift gloves, Joe shoved the shaved table leg up the guy's ass. Horrenda jerked with agonizing pain, the shivering strong and telling. Todd couldn't tell what the liquid was beneath Horrenda, piss, blood, shit... all three maybe._

"_It's big isn't it?" Joe said._

_The man's wet eyes shot open even wider as he fought the attack, tried to escape death and pain... and at Todd's sharp urges, the kids fled out the hidden path. Todd stayed behind to watch Horrenda die. He squatted down. Said, "Remember Diego, Diego with no teeth, remember how good he felt? This is for him, and every other kid you've raped."_

_Horrenda shook his head, shaking uncontrollably, tears running down his face... the pain obvious and deep. Todd chuckled low and said, "How you like _kids_ now?"_

_Taking one last gurgly breath, Horrenda's shaking stopped. It was over. Todd shuddered, his eyes closed, his mouth parted in pure orgasmic joy. He stood up and ran a hand through his hair. Almost wanted to jerk off on this dead bastard's body. _

_In that high, stoned on the killing of the sickest person he knew, Todd took his own knife, cut open the shirt, and sliced the man's tit right off. Threw it aside. Turned Horrenda's distorted face. Cut the word, "B-I-T-C-H," onto his forehead. Said, "Ain't you the man?"_

_When he got to his feet, a noise behind him made him turn. There... there... Darryl Warren stood. Thank god for shadows because blood drained from Todd's face. The door was supposed to be locked. Jackson didn't get a chance to lock it._

"_Holy motherfuckin' shit," Darryl said. Then he smiled. "I got you now."_

_All Todd's suspicions were confirmed and it felt like death. Darryl wanted something, something BIG. And now he had a way to get it. Todd had been doing this for five years, using shit people did against them to get stuff from them. He'd become one of his own victims. _

"_Don't know what you're thinking," Todd said, "he was already dead. I'm just redecorating." _

"_Nobody will buy that, Manning. Give me the knife."_

"_You'll have to kill me... which you won't be able to do."_

"_Meaning you're going to kill ME? You're not gonna do that. You ain't built that way."_

"_If I can do THIS," he said, pointing to Horrenda, "I can do you." He turned to the escape route, to hop on the old desk and shimmy into the classroom through that vent, the way the others had done. Holding onto that bloody knife._

_Darryl was on him like white on rice, grabbing the back of Todd's t-shirt and pulling him to the ground, getting him on his back. Put a knee to Todd's chest and a fat shank to his throat, murmuring hot in his face, "Drop the knife, BITCH."_

_Todd couldn't breathe - he was caught... dead caught - he could have fought and like nothing, killed Darryl. The shank burned bloody in his hand, itching to be buried in someone's heart. The guy wasn't all that strong, wasn't all that clever in his fighting. Instinctively, though, he knew this was a cop, an agent, some kind of government man. The two were trapped in that hold for the longest time, both panting like dogs in heat. Todd was paralyzed: to kill, or not to kill. He felt like a coward... he wanted to go home. He jerked with indecision. Growled in that tight impossible grip. He pushed Darryl hard, turning the table... Todd had HIS knee on Darryl's chest, HIS knife against the shit's throat._

"_Cut me, Manning, go ahead..."_

_He HAD to kill him. Anything less was problematic. Before he got the choice, Darryl kneed him, shoving Todd off him. Todd scrambled to his feet and the two stood there, aiming their goddamn knives at each other. Breathing hard, dogs in heat. _

"_If you run," Darryl said, "I'm reporting this shit NOW. You walk outta here with that knife in hand... you'll be charged with murder NOW."_

"_And if I kill you?"_

"_You'd have already done it. You can't, you won't. I KNOW you."_

"_Who the fuck are you?"_

"_You'll learn."_

_For all Todd's badness, for all the dirty work he'd been doing, that motherfucker was right. He could not kill this man. He closed his eyes, and hoped what the guy wanted would be do-able. He dropped the knife full of fingerprints and blood and ran like hell. Full of regret the moment he hit that fucking spring air._

_In that last week of his fifth year, Todd learned what Darryl wanted: MK on a platter. Yeah, something big._

* * *

><p>Llanview Police Department was buzzing with activity. With two gang war fronts, life in the inner city was bad and now was spilling onto the neighboring districts. The Irish were out of control, the Serranos still wreaking havoc... and now the Mambo Kings were in the revenge business. According to some sources, even the Posse was getting in on the game. Bo Buchanan leaned back in his swivel chair, eying that picture of Todd Manning on the bleachers back in Statesville, the first evidence that he was involved with the Mambo Kings. <em>Puro MK, <em>the photographer had written on the back. His tattoos with buried MK letters, more evidence... and according to the FBI agent... he was in fact, THE killer of Jessie Horrenda. But the most damning evidence of all was a report on MK provided to him by Darryl Warren. Bo looked at an amazing diagram of the MK organization. He swallowed in disbelief.

At the top of the MK hierarchy was Pedro Moreno, dashing guy, in a dark suit, getting out of a limo. In classic surveillance photography, right beneath Moreno, was Todd Manning next to a fellow named Rolon Lopez. The two were captured walking together, talking... walking into the Havana club. Beneath them... the thing blew up with names and pictures...

And right now, Todd Manning was completely untouchable. The FBI had its claws on him and did not want to let go. Bo wondered what else they had on Manning. A few pictures... not enough. He wondered more what Manning had on Moreno and MK. What hard evidence?

Jesus CHRIST.

Slammed the report shut. He shook his head at his own limited view of the world. Simple, he thought. Kill the gang war by pinning a lowly murder on Manning. How stupid. He'd opened a proverbial can of worms to say the least. And it was all blowing up in his face, in his city.

Jesus CHRIST.

The office continued to buzz, the hours of the day floating by. Bo cleared his throat and headed to dinner with Nora. He wanted a drink though. To look at Nora's face, to hear her smart talk, her amazing judgment of the world around her. He loved her black and white opinions. Needed them. He lived too much in the gray. Always had. People didn't know that about him. He supported clean laws, tight laws, he taught his cops to walk tight to the bright lines, but never failed to see law's broken machinery.

They walked into R.J.'s club - where they could have a good dinner and strong drinks. They got a great corner table, a table reserved for Llanview's power folks. Steak came, garlic mashed potatoes, spinach swirled in cheesy sauce. The drinks flowed. Music played and Bo let himself get a little tipsy.

He sighed in pleasure and enjoyed Nora's rolling of her eyes at the food's wonderful tastes. Sat back in the booth, his arm draped across the seat. He watched the crowd... the dancing had started and he smiled at the laughter as if he could hear the jokes. Nora came to his side of the booth and cozied up against him. He looked at her, kissed her. Drank that scotch.

He wasn't the only one who seemed to need a lift. Tea Delgado was in the house. Dancing. Laughing. Her hair was wild with energy, her clothes tight... meaning business. Being more than flirtatious. Bo shook his head. He'd known her for too long not to recognize blind fury at her absent husband. FBI had ordered Bo to quit surveillance of Manning. And the man had indeed fallen off the face of the earth. He hoped she'd make it through the night in one piece. He hoped Manning would.

Jesus CHRIST.

R.J. Gannon made his way to Bo's table, R.J. turning every so often to keep his eye on Tea. He was visibly on guard duty.

"A word with you, Mr. Commissioner. Hello, Nora." R.J. smiled big and charming, white teeth against the black of his skin. His braids swung with the subtle movement of his head.

She smiled, returned the greeting, "Hello, R.J."

Bo nodded his return hello, swimming a little in his head. He motioned to have R.J. join them across the table.

"I have a question for you."

"Shoot," Bo said.

"Where you at on prison politics?"

Bo glanced at Nora, then returned to R.J., "What are you up to?"

"My new cause. I got people inside - I got one young person who's had a real hard time of it. I want to know how it is that young people can be abused and their abusers seem to get away with it. I want to know where you stand on bringing this kind of shit... to light."

Nora eyed Bo, looked at his serious face. He studied R.J. Drank some of his drink, shaking the glass, the ice cubes swishing in the amber. "I'm supportive of change," he said. "I... managed some changes during Manning's stay."

"That's what I thought."

"What are you thinking?"

"An open investigation into the broad and accepted use of rape by inmates and guards as a means of behaviour control."

Nora quietly added, "That's an old problem."

"An unacceptable one, Mrs. D.A."

"Investigations have gone nowhere on that point," she said. "Changes are expensive."

"I got reason to know that guards routinely ALLOWED cons to use sheets for privacy in their cells. Perfect for rape and unprotected sex. I have heard guards routinely turn their backs on active sexual assaults in the prison. I have heard... guards... routinely ignore ABUSE of young inmates and then use those kids as confidential informants in exchange for protection. I want this investigated. Ms. Delgado... she's running my non-profit on this very problem of kids in prison... we are about to go public with information that promises to tear apart the CURRENT administration of Statesville... and big people here in Llanview. Which side you want to be on?"

"Your lawyer... is not very invested right now," Nora said.

R.J. turned his head to watch Tea a moment, turned back to Bo. "That ain't my problem right now... back to business. What side, Buchanan?"

"Shondra Dixon is formidable - she's done a tremendous amount of work towards helping these kids in prison - formed her own facility to protect these kids."

"The obvious troubled ones - the gays, the disabled...the ones who can't get no gangs on their side... but that doesn't mean shit ain't still going down. I know for a fact it is."

Bo nodded, "I'm on the side of the kids. Send your lawyer to me. Send whoever. I'll make something happen. A rotten prison... means rotten parolees."

R.J. smiled, "Good."

When he walked away... Bo turned to Nora, "I don't trust him. There's something else going on."

"Think it has to do with Manning and MK?"

"He's in with the Jamaican gang... the Posse... I know that. And THEY are the Switzerland of gang warfare... they're 'friends' with everybody. I don't know."

The two continued their drinking, their eating... and disappeared into the Llanview night to their own safe places.

* * *

><p>R.J. grabbed Tea by the waist, laughing and smiling, and she grabbed him around the shoulders, "What are you doing, Mr. R.J.?"<p>

"I'm saving your ass, girl. From yourself."

The music was loud and heated. Tea had been dancing with some guy and she was way over her alcohol limit. She was angry at Manning for all the shit he'd been pulling... scared for her family... disappointed in the system. _Terrified, period. _All this was dangerous, dangerous territory for her. R.J. grabbed her tight to him and walked her back, walked her across the dance floor. She smiled and bobbed her head, and when they hit his office, she did what he knew she would do.

She kissed him good and hard, said in a ragged voice, "Make love to me, come on...I need you inside of me..."

Dangerous... GODDAMN... territory. R.J. weakened at her words, at her body in his arms. Everything, all those goddamn years rushed back and his cock responded like a starved puppy. Remember the sight of those two fucking at the Penthouse, he told himself... remember, GANNON! You are not the love of her life, you are NOT who she wants. He kissed her back. Hard, hot. He felt his whole insides jerk... and he fell on top of her on the couch in his office. She was drunk and would be pissed in the morning so he tried to pull away.

"Tea... no... lemme take you home," he panted. "Please, girl..." Her hands roamed his body, pushed his braids out of his face. She pressed her palms on his cheeks... and held him. "I'm okay, I know what I'm doing..." She craned her neck and kissed him slower now, more seriously. He almost felt like weeping with love for her... and wanted to bash his head against a wall. He moved his hips tight against hers and shook with sudden, powerful desire. Desire he thought he'd squelched.

"He'll kill me, woman... and I mean KILL me..."

"R.J..." she said, unbuttoning him...

He groaned with misery, pain... needing to be inside of her again, wanting it like he wanted nothing else. "God, please... don't do this to me..." He kissed her again, intense and unforgiving, their mouths forceful and familiar. It had been so long. When she touched his hard cock, she also wrapped her legs around his ass...

He grunted with need, with want... and finally yanked himself off the couch.

"TEA! You do not want ME! You want HIM! The way you've wanted him always! The way you wanted him... just two fuckin' days ago... woman... I WATCHED you. You do not want me! I watched you, girl... damn... I saw with my own eyes what you have with him - you and I... we ain't that."

Five... six years ago...she had cried with hurt over that bastard... Tonight, she panted and lay back on the couch. Drunk, yes, cool... yes. "You're right... but I want to be with you. Tonight, I want what you and I have - it's quieter, safer... Is it that hard to understand?" Tea's eyes were soft and caring and sorrowful and it all rammed right through R.J.'s heart.

Plopped on the desk, knocked his head back. Stared at the dim lights of his office. He buttoned his slacks. "I can't do this... for ME. I'm the one who'll wake up in the morning doing the walk of shame. You hear me, girl?"

Tea dropped covered her eyes... "He's not faithful to me, R.J."

"He's as faithful as a ten-year addict can be. What he uses those women for is _drugs_. That man, he loves YOU. I saw it. Jesus... I saw it. He don't give that to NOBODY other than you."

"And that makes what he does even worse. He has broken his vows to me over and over... and last night, trying to kill himself... that tells me too much."

"And yet you still love him, woman." He breathed deeply... looked at Tea lying back, her arms up, her blouse open, her breasts... showing. She'd kicked her shoes off... closed her eyes in that drunken bliss she'd put herself in. He watched her a while, until she gazed at him once more.

"Sometimes love isn't enough," she murmured.

"I'd love nothing more than to take you right here," he said, "... warm you up the way you want."

"Then do it."

"I don't have the strength to deal with the hurt of losing you to him tomorrow. Because that will happen."

Tea sat up and held her head in her hands. The room swam... she looked at R.J. and loved him. Loved him in a sweet, desperate way. A way she knew would last her life. But it wasn't like what she had with Todd... R.J. was not a part of her soul. He did not dig into the depths of her being, to her core, and bury metal claws into her. He did not hurt her the way Todd did, he did not love her the way Todd did...

"I do love you," she said, "I'll always love you."

"I'm gonna lose you tomorrow..."

"You might. But I don't want to think about tomorrow."

She got to her feet and put herself in between his legs. His arms draped her loosely, her arms hung around his waist. "You wreck me," he said, his voice heavy with his own sorrows, and want. She kissed him, slower this time, softer. They stared into each other's eyes, then he watched her mouth... her hands moved to his neck, and his hands moved to the small of her back.

"Do this," she whispered. "Do this one thing... for me."

... and god damn... that's how it all started in the first place. When he finally got inside of her, when he felt the high of feeling her and tasting her... and breathing in the woman he wanted, needed...he near-about wanted to cry... and at the same time had thoughts, thoughts of killing Manning to make sure to stay inside of her.

* * *

><p>The thing about addicts is that you cannot trust them. Not with anything. Not with their promises they make, the vows they take, the logic, the reasoning... they will always disappoint you.<p>

The day at Ty's kennel had seemed like an empowering one. The boys, who were anything but boys, reminded Todd of what he'd been at prison and who he was to MK. The information man. He knew EVERYTHING. And likewise, his crew... they'd gotten really good at getting information, too.

"We're gonna tear apart the life of Darryl Warren," said Tomas. "Tear apart Statesville. One of us will confess to the killing... not me..."

Ty shook his head, rolling his eyes at Tomas, "Royce is inside for murder-one. He's there for life. He's gonna confess to killing Horrenda... and WHY. We talked about it - he's IN. This will blow off the top of the food chain. With your newspaper, with that deal of Gannon's. This is going to gut the power Darryl has over you."

"You won't have to testify," Smithy said, "... because there won't be anything to hold over your head other than MAYBE tampering with a dead body."

Todd had listened quietly to their plan, standing next to his dog, his bad-ass dog who seemed to like him. Eying each other. It was strange, Ty kept saying, how Breaker's personality had been so affected by Todd. But he knew... he knew the dog couldn't be trusted. Nobody could predict when the dog would become his mad self again, nobody could gauge the thing that would make the dog tear someone's throat out, even Manning's.

Just like Manning. So calm, so attentive... _unpredictable._

The day rolled by, Todd showering, feeling slightly human again. Dressed in his favorite black jeans, his favorite black stay-at-home knit shirt. No shoes. Just some flip-flops. Tea was a cruel one. He hated flip-flops. The night fell...

The crew had indeed been lulled into a sense of trust. Even Ty. All day they had conversations about who they'd become since Statesville. Todd showed a real interest in them, smiled at them, softly chuckled at the jokes they made. They commented to each other out of earshot that they had never seen that on him, that... kindness, that seemingly genuine curiosity. He asked them about their likes, their wants, their lives, the people who meant something to them. He helped Ty feed the dogs in the evening, helped cook a fine dinner while he slowly sucked down a beer.

It was only Smithy who said don't buy it. He's not sharing, man, he's still getting information without offering anything. Maybe we shouldn't have him outside the cage. Maybe we need to put him back in. Ty tended to agree, but he so wanted to believe that the guy was gonna see this through. But then he thought about Breaker... that quiet gaze.

The dog was funny, how he looked at Ty, then looked at Todd, and walked... walked without growling. Todd put the dog back into the kennel when he went to shower but he went right back and the dog was so glad to see his new friend again. Up and down the kennel the two paced that morning. He kneeled down and talked to Breaker quietly, away from Ty's hearing. He pet the dog and looked sad. They just seemed to know each other - like from a previous life. Later, when Todd walked away, finally locking that cage door, the dog went a little crazy, growled and choke-barked and threw himself at the fencing. Like he knew Todd was leaving the kennel. He hadn't done that earlier for the shower. The crazy didn't stop until Todd walked past his own cage, turned and looked at Breaker. Said, "Shush." The dog quieted, lay down.

"You okay," Ty asked?

"Yup. Let's have dinner."

Ty didn't see Todd eye the rifle above the kitchen door, outside. Didn't see Todd take note of the keys next to the front door.

The dinner moved along... and then Ty asked Todd what bedroom he wanted. Any of them, Todd had said.

Smithy spoke up. Looked hard at his boss, "Uh...maybe you need to sleep outside? In that locked cage? Like your lawyer suggested."

Everyone saw the muscles in his jaw flex. Todd held a fork in his hand, moved the hamburger meat around, the rice. Said nothing. Ty spoke up. "Look, we're friends, man. This is about the heroin and keeping you safe... making sure you don't get some hair up your ass and run out the door. It's not going to hurt you, just to... be safe. You know?"

Joe did NOT like the mood that had suddenly come over Todd. Thought maybe they could just... keep a watch on him while he slept in the bedroom? Keep that rifle... he scanned the room. Where was that rifle anyway?

"Yeah, I get that," Todd said. "I wanna see my dog,"

"But what do you want to do about the sleeping thing?"

He looked up, a hard look on his face. "Lemme think about it. Lemme talk to my dog... see what he says about where the _fuck _I should sleep."

The kids reacted to him, backing off. Like they always did. He still scared them. And Smithy scowled at all of them - he needed backup. Nobody was quite willing to do that. Todd shoved the plate away from him and stepped outside, the kitchen door slamming shut.

Smithy shook his head, got to his feet. "The hell is wrong with you! We're not in prison anymore! Why you scared? That lawyer said to keep him in the cage and... I think we need to do just THAT whether Manning likes it or not! It's been real nice day and all, but... Ty, get that rifle and get his addicted ass into the goddamn cage!"

After some very brief back and forth, Joe asked, "Where's the rifle?"

That's when they heard the kitchen door open, and the cocking of the gun... and all of them looked up to Todd Manning aiming that sonofabitch rifle at their faces. Tomas moaned, "Oh shit..."

"Don't even try to stop me," Todd said. He had no shoes. Kicked off those fucking flip-flops.

He was shivering, Smithy noticed that. Had to be the illness... it was the addiction that made him do it. He was desperate and terribly, terribly afraid.

"Manning," Smithy pleaded, "Come on..."

"No, you of all people... you know I cannot stay locked here... you know that!"

Ty chimed in, "We're here to help you. It'll work. Shit's gonna WORK! But you gotta stay put."

"The key... which one is it... to the truck... which one?"

Smithy walked close to the rifle... he was the only one who could. "Please stay. For your family. Let us help you."

Todd growled, the pain in his voice heavy, "Don't... test me. I will blow your brains out if you come any closer. I will kill all of you... if you don't give me the key to the truck."

Joe got up, slowly. Walked to the hallway and picked out the key. The men all watched him and shook their heads. There was a general sense of disappointment in the room, sadness. Joe said to everyone, "Nobody's going to die over this. He's right - why should he be locked up like an animal? Manning... he knows what he's doing. Always has." A little reverse psychology never hurt anyone. "Right? You got this under control? We're all... we're gonna work this. We're gonna blow up Statesville, the people who run it. And you... you'll take care of your family. Because that's where you're going, right? To see them?"

Smithy agreed, "Of course you're going there... to take care of Lucia, and Reese. And now you have Rose, too. A granddaughter. Imagine that..."

Shaking harder, Todd eyed everyone... "Stop it... STOP! Gimme the key. GIVE IT TO ME!"

Joe tossed the key and Todd had to move the rifle to grab it which is exactly when Jackson mowed him down, the two crashing to the ground. Todd scrambled, fighting to get the rifle, and Ty went for it, too, yelling, "What the FUCK? We are HELPING YOU!"

But Todd was too agile, finally grabbing the rifle and whipping it hard at Tomas who had jumped in, too, hitting the kid's shoulder. He jumped out of the way. They all did. Todd got to his feet... breathing hard, shaking still. "Get out of my way... just... get the fuck out of my way."

Smithy gave it one last shot, "What can we do to get you to stay?"

Todd eyed him for the longest moment and then he just said, "Nothing. I gotta go. Please."

They sat back at that... and let him walk out the door. Ty punched the wall, leaving a good hole there. "Call someone! Go after him...shit!" The truck tore out of the driveway. They all felt... hella defeated. They decided not to chase him. Maybe the cops would get him. They let George know. They left a message for Tea Delgado.

"He fuckin' ran man... he's got the gun... he's fuckin' desperate."

* * *

><p>Todd knew he was out of his mind to get away from the kennel. He knew he should have let them lock him in that cage, just like Breaker. Knew it like he knew the sun would rise in the morning. But, but.. somewhere inside of him, he believed that he had to get to Tea. He felt afraid... like she was dying. He didn't know why. He'd been thinking it since she left. And there was a little... thing... in the base of his brain that tied her to Gannon. Maybe they were dressed alike. Maybe the way Tea promised R.J. wouldn't cross lines. Something.. something...<p>

He really wasn't after heroin. The kids thought that. He wasn't. He was after Tea Delgado.

He drove fast, stupid-gonna-get-pulled-over fast, drove to a main road and kept driving. He had no fucking idea where he was, or where the fuck he was going. Finally slammed into a gas station. Asked the attendant the fastest way to Llanview. Got a little confused and the guy worried... smiled gently, knowing he had a crazy man on his hands.

But the information got passed and Todd got back into the truck and headed the right way. Headed right to R.J.'s club... because maybe he knew where Tea was. Because... maybe Tea was there. Next stop would be Gannon's house... but the club... Todd remembered Tea dancing with that fuckin' Serrano spy. She wasn't just there to see Todd, she was there for a little payback. He had no idea what time it was... but he slammed into R.J.'s parking lot and it was crowded.

Maybe she'd be at this club... getting payback. He wiped his face, hard, feeling the overgrowth of stubble, rubbed like rubbing mud off. Smoothed his wild hair. Bent the rear-view mirror to look at his fuckin' mad-dog self. Hopeless. Looked at his bare feet. Real fuckin' hopeless. He touched the steak knife on the passenger seat that he'd nicked from the kitchen. Stretched his legs out and shoved it into his back belt loop. Hid it under his shirt. No idea what the hell he planned on doing with that, he had no idea, but it seemed like a just-in-case thing.

He climbed out of the truck, barefoot still. Got confirmation that he looked like shit because people were staring at him. The bouncer knew him and let him into the club. Todd didn't catch the total "oh-shit" expression on the guy's face. Didn't catch the guy talking into his phone. He looked around the hopping club and couldn't see R.J. or Tea. People seemed to separate and there was a sense of fear...

One, two bouncers started for him and Todd sensed something.. something off. Got to R.J.'s office, asked the bouncer in front of the door, "Where is he?"

"He's busy, Mr. Manning."

"My wife in there? Tea Delgado? You fuckin' know her, I know you do. Is she in there?"

The music kept on, but this wasn't like an MK club... people were mainstream here. They got uncomfortable with the lunatic, and started leaving. Todd saw movement, familiar, and he turned to Jovanna... she was smiling at him.

"Hey baby...what you want here? What you want from that R.J.?"

He turned and looked at her, confused... suddenly terribly broken. "My wife... I want her."

She walked to him, touched his stringy hair that was falling all over the place, and whispered, "How about something from me? 'Cause that's what you look like, baby... like you want something other than your wife. You know I got it all."

Todd couldn't stop looking at Jovanna... knowing what she had, knowing what she could do for him... but he wanted to get to R.J. first. Wanted to see that he didn't have Tea with him... that he just had a crazy feeling, and that she was safe.

But nobody was cooperating.

All at once, he grabbed Jovanna into his arms, pulled out the little steak knife. Held the knife to her delicate throat. Held her tight, tight to his hard body. She shook in his arms. He felt her black silky dress move against her body, felt how delicate she was. Her hands immediately went to his arm wrapped around her. Now people were scared, really moving out of his way. She was scared, too.

The bouncers looked at each other, not quite sure how to handle this that didn't involve killing his crazy ass and maybe in the process, Jovanna. The paperwork... the cops... shit. Also, R.J. was damn cautious of women working in his club, whores or not. They figured Manning was... desperate. His lack of shoes... bothered them. It wasn't like him. Shit was happening. Maybe they ought'a accommodate.

"Get me into his office... NOW!"

Jamal nodded... stepped back, "Wait," he said.

The moment he was gone... Todd whispered into Jovanna's ear, "I'm sorry. I'll never hurt you. Not like this. Forgive me."

She turned into him... "Baby, let me help you."

"There isn't any helping me."

Jamal came out and Todd let go of Jovanna, pointing the weapon at the massive bouncer. He eyed the other ones, took in all the threats. "Open that door..."

"Manning... you don't want to go in there. Man to man... you want to go home. Or go with Jovanna... get well, in your way. Do your thing with her."

"The fuck...the fuck are you saying?" His stomach leaped into his throat... what he was saying was that Tea was inside, and that he thought maybe Todd ought not be finding what he was gonna find.

"Fuck you," he growled, storming past the bouncer, through the slightly ajar door of the office. Stood in the dim light and saw what Jamal was talking about.

R.J. was on his feet, buttoning his fucking pants. His shirt hung wide open, showing his own set of tats, his own set of scars. His own rock-hard abs and pecs.

Tea was on the couch, sitting up, a blanket covering her naked form. Her knee was up, one hand to her side, another up and covering her face. Todd found himself frozen in place. He had thought for so long that had he caught such a thing that he'd kill R.J. on the spot. That he'd rip his throat out with his fucking teeth. He only heard himself huff a hard breath out. The knife fell to the floor and he heard Tea say, "I'm sorry..."

"I was scared for you," Todd said, his face showing the disbelief of what he was looking at. "I had to come, because I was _scared_ for you."

"Manning," R.J.'s voice croaked... "This..." He reached out instinctively to hold Todd back. Todd swatted at the hand.

"Don't talk... Is this for real? Am I _awake_?" Todd looked around R.J., landed on Tea, disbelief and disgust all over his face. "You were fucking him? Here? Like, like before? I mean, like, real _FUCKING_?"

"Bitch, don't you talk to her like that...," R.J. growled. Tea got up, holding the blanket to her. He reached a hand back, keeping her behind him.

Todd slammed R.J. back, hands hard against Gannon's chest. Jamal grabbed Todd around the torso and held him there, held him in place, but Todd put his own hands up, "I'm okay, not gonna hurt him, OR her. Lemme go. LET GO!"

R.J. nodded, and Jamal let go of Todd who suddenly chuckled. Laughed a little more. Said what R.J. well knew.

"She isn't leaving me for you. She wanted your dick... and you... you gave it to her like such a fuckin' CHUMP."

"I said, to watch that mouth, Manning! Why don't you get the fuck out?"

Tea breathed in hard and closed her eyes, still swimming. She said nothing and Todd chuckled again. "What, Delgado, no argument? What is that? You aren't movin' in with him? You aren't divorcing me and marrying him? Is that what I'm hearing?"

Now R.J. got mad and pushed Todd right back, hard in the chest, "FUCK YOU, Manning. Fuck you in the fuckin' ASS." Pushed him again, just as hard, "Whacha gonna do now, bitch, huh? Stab me with that pathetic _knife_... oh no, I know just what you're gonna do. Get high, get fucked. Same old bullshit with you. Round and round you go."

At that, without much warning, Todd curled his left hand into a fist and shock-punched the hell out of R.J. who dropped hard against the desk, rolling his eyes... fuckin' hatin' that goddamn iron fist. Jamal growled, "Oh no you don't," and grabbed Todd around the neck this time, "You do that again, Manning and I promise you, I will break your goddamn neck." He squeezed and Todd couldn't breathe, reaching up, pointlessly grabbing at Jamal's arm.

"Feel that? A little harder, and you're dead."

Tea plopped back down on the couch. Pissed now at all the testosterone in the room. They were all correct. Tea wasn't moving in with R.J., Todd WOULD go get high, and Jamal WOULD break Todd's neck if he did something again. She murmured, "Mmmm... I need another drink."

Jamal pushed Todd to the side, pointing his finger at him, "Get the hell out of the club... no shoes, no service."

"Hahaha..." Todd said, rubbing his neck. R.J. got to his feet, rubbing the side of his head, discovering blood.

Eying Tea, Todd hissed, "You said... he wouldn't cross lines."

Sniffing, Tea leaned back on her hands, the blanket barely covering her. "I didn't say *I* wouldn't cross lines."

R.J. snorted.

"Look," she sighed, definitely drunk, "I wanted to be with R.J. I needed it. I am sorry if that hurts you."

"I gotta go."

"Where? Where do you have to go?"

Todd glared at her beautiful face. Tea was tired, well-loved. He recognized the relaxed nature, the way she breathed, the sheen to her skin. Tears stung his eyes, and hate filled his heart. He bit down hard, his hands tightened into fists. Growled, "You don't get to ask me shit."

Now Tea got angry, but he didn't want to hear it. He put his hand out, "Shut it, Delgado. No shoes, no service. Ain't that right, big guy?"

Jamal grunted in response.

Todd looked at his bare feet, felt the chill of the floor. He turned to her, a sad expression on his face. "Fact is, I'm gonna get high, Tea. I want it, I need it. I'm sorry if that hurts you." He walked past Jamal, walked outside the office, smack into the dancing crowd. Daniel, the other bouncer followed him as he walked around the perimeter of the place. Put a baseball mitt of a hand on Todd's shoulder. "Where you goin' Manning?"

"Get me Jovanna... can you do that for me?"

"Then you leaving? 'Cause you been asked."

"Yeah, yeah... I'm gettin' the fuck out."

In minutes she was there. Ready for him. Todd looked her up and down, bent his head to her and whispered hot in her ear, "You got somethin' for me?"

"Yeah, baby, just like you like."

Paused a second, looked at her real hard, bent again to her ear, "You got any hypos?"

She knocked her head back, looked around. She never said no. "You really want that, Mr. Manning?"

"I really want that."

"You need... all the tools?"

"Yeah."

She sighed, nodded her head. "I be back."

When she reappeared, he said, "Let's go." As they walked, she asked, "Where _are_ your shoes, baby?"

"Lost 'em."

She carried a bag with her. When they got outside, she stopped walking, got a pair of black leather shoes out. Said, "Goes with your jeans and that fine black shirt you're in."

"Whose are these?"

"Mr. Gannon's."

"Great, always wanted to 'walk in his shoes.'"

Jovanna laughed a little. Got sad again. He put them on, looking just the slightest less crazy. They slowly made their way to Ty's stolen truck. He climbed in and suddenly felt terribly tired. Jovanna slid close to him. "You okay?"

"No," he said. "I found my woman fucking your boss. He didn't even bother taking her home first."

"I'm real sorry, baby." She sighed and sat back. She'd wait for as long as he needed. After some time, he sniffed noisy, then started the engine. Thought about getting high, shooting up. He wanted that. Wanted that feeling of being far away, the arms of the Princess wrapped around him. The feeling of love rushing through him. He held back a sudden sob that seemed to come from nowhere. He had to stop the car to regain himself. Spent two minutes with his hands covering his face and breathing to cool his jets.

Okay, okay, he told himself. Hitting the road again. So where was he gonna do this? China Moon? Home? No, no... China Moon. Remembered the first time he did this with Paulie. Remember how fucking good it felt after so long in so much pain. The relief had been amazing... just like the other day. Only better.

The lights of the city passed him by and he glanced at Jovanna. She sat peacefully watching, too. He could see her pretty profile, pretty African-American woman. She had luscious curves. She was different than Leticia or Brandy. She wasn't vulnerable, or weak. She had very clear limits. While she didn't say no, she did NOT approve of the needle. But she'd help him. She'd keep him alive if he slipped under.

He drove and drove. Drove slowly through Sixteenth Street.

"Can I have that needle?"

"Now? Just the hypo?"

"Yeah."

Reached into her bag, hunted around. Pulled it out. She handed it to him and he felt it in his fingers. Thin plastic barrel, the sharp part covered with a cap. He watched the streets as he drove past alleys, and saw the homeless there. Saw the alley that led to Toby's shooting gallery. Remembered being in those rooms, dirty, high, not caring if he lived or died. He fingered the needle some more. Lifted it and held it in between his teeth by the barrel as he made a hard turn, turning the steering wheel. Loved the taste of it in his mouth. Held it again in his hand.

Toby's... the apartment... Rock... remembered his mouth on him, the bite to his thigh. Remembered faceless people molesting him in Toby's, remembered the dreamy nightmarish images that he could not say were real or not.

Remembered his treatment of Brandy. He ran the hand with the needle through his hair. Remembered the taste of the dirty carpet of that motel room when she got killed. Biting that rug when the cops held him face-down... screaming bloody murder.

Jovanna noted the flashes of pain on his face as they drove. She asked, "You use a needle before?"

"I did... yesterday. It was too good. And another time... not too long ago. I want it again."

"That wasn't the first time, was it?"

He slowed and turned on a dark side street. Turned the car around and parked the car so he faced the boulevard. He was in the heart of Sixteenth Street. Watched the whores and junkies and dealers and homeless people walk past. Saw the beat cops. Knew some were dirty. He dropped his head back against the headrest. Sighed heavily. Turned to her.

"No," he said, "it wasn't the first time. Before Statesville, I was fully into this. Spent months on the streets... living with a whore... living to get high on the spike. I didn't just get high... I got _fucked-up_... like,_ unconscious-stop-breathing_ fucked-up. Bad shit happened. Real... bad shit."

"I'm sorry about that."

"Yeah, got the track marks as a souvenir." He played with the needle, raised it to see it in the light from the streetlamp. "I loved this thing," he said quietly, "I hated it. I love getting high on dope, I hate being addicted. I hate that it calls to me in the middle of the night, in the middle of the day. When I'm with my kids, when I'm at a business meeting. When I find my wife FUCKING Gannon."

He sighed and rubbed his crotch... as if someone had kicked him in the nuts. Murmured, "I don't blame her. I'm not even pissed. I just feel..."

"Fucked," Jovanna said.

He chuckled sadly, "Yeah."

"How did you get off of it?"

"Off the needle?"

"Yeah..."

"A stint in rehab, my wife helped. I got sent to Statesville. That really ended the IV use." He shrugged. "I never stopped using though, those years inside."

"Like you been doing with me." She wrinkled her nose, tapped the side of it.

"Yeah."

"Your wife... she know you then, when you used that needle."

He breathed in... too pained to go into it. Jovanna didn't push.

After a bit of quiet, she moved towards him. Whispered, "May I get on your lap?" He kinda motioned to her that it was okay. She asked because he _needed_ to be asked. He was not kind to people who did things to him without asking. She'd seen it with her own eyes... learned early through the mistakes of other women. He chose her because she always asked.

She climbed onto his lap. Straddled him so her crotch touched his, and her knees pressed against the back of the seat. Her bare feet hung over the edge. She'd left her shoes on the passenger side.

"You wanna fuck, Mr. Manning? It's kinda like getting high, just not as dangerous. I know you don't really... _do that_ 'cause you real protective of your morals. I respect that. But, baby, maybe tonight... just tonight, you can enjoy something that's a little more than the usual. Soothe your heart."

He looked at her in the dim light for the longest while. She didn't have to tell him sex was just another drug. Dropped the needle and moved a hand to her ass. He touched her face. Caressed her cheek. Moved his fingertips around her delicate features. She'd closed her eyes as he did that. Opened them and smiled a little.

"Can I kiss you, baby," she whispered. He nodded, the smallest movement. Kept his eyes open as she tenderly kissed his mouth. Sucked on his lower lip. Kissed her back, slowly. He felt her ass and she slowly moved her hips against his. He pulled away from her, turning his head to the street while she moved against him. Slowly, she moved, torturously slow. She made a soft, delicate sound as she rocked her hips.

He began to respond and huffed, cursing under his breath. He smelled her sexy scent, spicy, sweet, and it set him on edge, sent his cock into an upright position... she had nothing on under that slinky dress. He reached in between her legs and slid his thumb in between tender slick folds of flesh. She rocked her head back. Let him know how good it was by the hushed noise she made. He moved his fingers and watched her face. She soon gasped and moaned that she was coming to let him know he'd done it right.

She didn't say anything more specific 'cause one time she did, she talked dirty, and he hated it and said something beyond disgusting... but she felt him respond to her orgasm, felt him get real hard, feeling his size, and in her head she thought about the other girls. Questions on how he'd be in bed and how she had laughed when they mentioned his _attributes. _And then she remembered how they thought he'd be violent but he wasn't. He was... terribly... gentle, terribly vulnerable.

Softly, she said, "I got protection... you want that? You wanna be inside of me?"

"Yeah..."

He pressed his eyes shut as she reached for the bag. Hunted for what she needed. He watched outside the cracked-open window, watched those junkies. Focused on them. He could spot them a mile away. Hunched over, some nervous, some so desperate. Some drifting because they got their fix. Which led him to the delicious high so he refocused on being ill, being in Toby's place, his wrecked family.

She got the condom, tore open the package and held it in one hand. She unbuttoned his jeans, releasing him. Rubbed his softened cock until it was hard again, the feel of it pulling him away from the junkies, getting him to look at her ministrations. She spit in her hand and gazed at him as she touched him. He closed his eyes at the intense feeling of it, his other addiction. She put the condom on him. Moved to get on him, to lower herself on him. He stopped her for a few long seconds. Considering it. Looking her in the eyes, intense, serious.

She said nothing at first, waiting. Then she assured him, "Whatever you want, baby. I will do."

He moved her hair out of her face. Then grasped her by the hips and shoved himself inside of her. It was a solid thrust and she gasped hard at it. When he got square inside her wetness and heat, he groaned, and made her stop any kind of movement, pressing his head to her forehead. Breathing hard. She reached down and grasped the base of his cock to stop him from coming.

She touched his hair, moving a lock behind his ear. Murmured, "We ain't in no rush. If you come too fast, you can do it again after a bit, and again...I ain't gonna stop you."

When he recovered, he moved her against him, his mouth parting. He kissed her but then didn't. Setting his head back against the headrest, he pulled the straps of her dress down and caressed her exposed breasts. Bent his head to suckle at her. She held his head to her chest. Let him go when he pulled back to move her faster. Got into an aggressive even rhythm, and she had to hold onto the door to stay upright. He then grabbed her to him, her whole body tight in his arms and he moved her harder against him because he was coming now.

He grunted and cursed his wife's name and held back a choked sob by kissing her neck, biting it, sucking hard on her delicate skin. Jovanna's mouth opened with the pain of it, held his head shakily until he finally let go. She breathed hard, knocking her head back, thankful that he'd quit. She then got close to him, fell into his grasp of her. Caressed his hot head, and wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. She sensed wetness on his cheeks but didn't touch the tears, didn't dry his skin. On men, there are some things whores don't acknowledge.

They both rested there in the street's light.

Jovanna reached down and took off the condom. Tossed it outside the slightly open window. He adjusted himself and she settled back down in that straddling position. Rested her chest against his, her head on his shoulder. She continued to smooth his hair and touch his soft lips. They were quiet... quiet.

Inside, she believed she had helped save his life. At least for tonight. She knew that he would take her home... and that he'd leave the needle behind. She knew this like she knew the sun would rise in the morning.

To be continued...


	27. Chapter 27

**Caged **

**Chapter 27**

_So give me back to Death -_

_The Death I never feared_

_Except that it deprived of thee -_

_And now, by Life deprived,_

_In my own Grave I breathe_

_And estimate its size -_

_Its size is all that Hell can guess -_

_And all that Heaven was - _

-Emily Dickinson

Although Jovanna believed she'd saved the life of Todd Manning, in truth, death had punched him in the face anyway.

In that stolen truck, on that dark street, he felt suffocated, rotten on the inside, as if long-buried in the cool dark depth of a grave. The weight of the girl on top of him seemed that of a headstone and six feet of earth. The two were lifeless in their purely physical connection. But most of all, death got to him through that needle, telling him that if he used it again, that would be the end of all things he loved. Téa, the children, his newspaper, a real home with a real family. Pure, real love, would be gone. There was no return from heroin hell. Not this time.

When he finally released Jovanna from the bruising hold of her neck, he'd never felt more alone in his life.

The whore fell against him at the end of their tryst, collapsing onto his chest. As she dumped the condom out the window and he got modest, he picked up the syringe once again. When he looked back at Jovanna, she was rubbing her neck, massaging the mark that he'd left on her without asking if he could do such a thing. There, he saw and felt Brandy. He could hear her voice and her willingness to go along with anything he wanted. Leticia, too. She was bad that way. Easy to damage. Easy acceptance of it.

_Leticia, Leticia... mother to Jed's baby girl._

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching out to smooth her skin, as if.

She shook her head, looked him straight on, "Ain't no thing."

Into her dark eyes again, he disappeared. Suddenly he was in Brandy's apartment, once more hopeless and addicted. The scent of vanilla and bleach hit him like a baseball bat to the back of his head. Brandy would let him abuse her, rape her, do anything he wanted because nothing hurt her. And any pain he did inflict... well, that was just a sign to HER that she meant something to him. SHE moved him... to abuse her. They were inhuman, together. He had lost all feeling for himself, for others. That's what that fucking-nectar-filled syringe had done to him.

Yeah, death punched him hard... there in the dim light of the stolen truck.

_What you want, baby?_

_Happiness, relief? Freedom from the cage._

_Unlock that door, baby. Paradise is right there... waitin' for you._

He caressed the needle's barrel, ran fingers lightly all around it. He could practically smell the heroin. And likewise... he could smell his own rotting corpse.

_You got a right to be happy, baby. You got a right!_

_You're already dead... I'm not. I want my life._

_But I'm lonely here, baby._

_I'm so sorry... I'm not ready. Hell is not ready for me._

Jovanna touched his cheek, a bare touch, getting him to look her in the eyes. "You want more from me?"

He said nothing, watching into her a while. The corner of her mouth lifted, just barely, "We can go to a motel. Lay out on a bed." She ran her fingertips up and down the length of hair that hung in his face. He could see the shadow of movement... could imagine those skilled fingers pressing down the needle's barrel that lay still and deadly in his hand. The mere thought got him hard and he huffed as she began to rock her hips on him, misunderstanding his arousal... "You _sure _you don't want something else from me?"

"No," he rasped. "I'll take you home."

She slid off his lap. Adjusted her clothes. They didn't need to exchange money now - he'd see her again, slip her hundreds of dollars in cash like he always did. She picked up her bag at her feet, and set it on her lap. She was so patient and so quiet, and the heroin was so noisy and demanding in his head, that he forgot she was there.

He flicked the cap off the brand-new syringe. Stared at the hollow steel in the light. He suddenly stuck the thing back in his mouth and shoved up his sleeve, exposing his marked forearm. Took the syringe and pricked the tender skin once, twice... all the way up to his wrist. Every pinch offered a bit of a thrill, a shiver of euphoric escape, and a solid reminder of what he'd face if he actually made that syringe potent. He groaned audibly and dropped his head hard against the steering wheel, drifting in the slight high the needle alone had given him.

Instinctively, Jovanna reached out to touch him because she felt his pain there in that stolen truck, thick, heavy, rolling in the dark like smoke. He flinched and shot her a forbidding look so she pulled her hand back. He recovered quickly though, the surprise of her fading. He then chuckled softly, "I'm sorry. You must think I'm crazy."

"No, no... I'm real familiar. That pinch... that's almost as good."

He closed his eyes, "No." Sighed. "Not even close."

He handed the little plastic nightmare back to her. She took it, found the cap. Recapped it and put it in her bag. The engine turned over, and he sped down the street, listening to her quiet directions home. He dropped her off at the modest duplex she shared with two other women from R.J.'s club. As she opened the passenger door, as she grabbed hold of her bag, she asked point-blank, "You still want the dope?" She tapped her nose.

He turned away from her and focused on the dark night beyond the windshield, bit down on his teeth. Shook his head, no, because he couldn't even talk for the pain of rejecting it aloud. Sped away before he changed his mind, drove fast with only one purpose: Téa. He let her be the noise in his head. Let her be his focus.

So he drove by their house, not seeing her car, not seeing the normal lights of occupancy. Drove past Viki's place, not seeing Téa's car there either. He knew where R.J. lived... and neither Téa's car nor R.J.'s car was there. So he hit the gas once again, giving it one last shot.

_R.J.'s club. _

Yeah, sure enough, saw Téa's car still in the lot. R.J.'s too. He parked for a while, sitting in the truck, thinking about Téa and R.J. He'd accepted what happened. He did. He was clear as a bell on it. And it didn't change his need for her, his monster love for her... because who the fuck was he to judge her moment of desperation? Provided that's what it was. He rubbed his mouth, looking at the club, a lot scared of the truth, but crazily confident that she... that she'd come with him, that she'd come _home_ with him.

Maybe he was out of his fucking mind.

He climbed out of the truck. Walked through the near-empty lot to the front door. Swallowed hard. Considered turning around and banging on Jovanna's door again. _Give me that shit... gimme. _Instead he banged the front door of the club. Banged until his hand about broke. No response. He walked around the building, trying the door in the back. Locked up tight.

Walked back to the truck, walking slow. Thought about driving the truck through the front door. That would work. That'd get R.J.'s attention. Then he remembered seeing something in the back of the truck. Yeah, yeah... he rooted around in the bed, sifting through the shit that had been bouncing around back there. Oh yeah. A crowbar. A black iron crowbar.

Grabbed it up and stalked to the back of the club. Shoved the thing into the narrow opening between door frame and the worker's door. Put his weight into it, and leaned hard. Popped the door open. He walked inside, finding himself in a dark hallway. Swung that crowbar. Followed the hallway past the kitchen, the pantry... heard soft jazz music. Stood in the back door to the club, behind the bar. R.J. and a bunch of other guys sat drinking, talking quietly at a table, totally unaware of their visitor.

Todd decided to change things.

With a solid swing of the crowbar, he cleared the bar's counter of its slew of shiny glasses, blowing them up into a million pieces. Everyone shot to their feet except R.J. who stayed seated and growled, "Oh hell no. Who let the dogs out?" Three men jumped the bar, grabbed the crowbar out of Todd's hands, and dragged him out to face R.J. who sat back like the king of his own country. They shoved him hard, and he fell against the table. He straightened up and sniffed, fixed his clothes.

Smiling ugly, he hissed, "Hi, I'm lookin' for MY WIFE. She here? I saw her car... saw yours. She in your office still? Huh? Or have you got her stashed away in the _whores' _rooms?"

The men started towards Todd, but R.J. made a noise and they all stopped. Todd realized he didn't know any of these guys. They had snarled shit to him when they pulled him away from the bar and not a one sounded Jamaican.

"You fuckin' serious?" R.J. said. "You wanna rescue her NOW? Ain't you s'posed to be locked up in a kennel?"

"Let me see her..."

R.J. sighed, rubbed his face. Too tired to fight. "She's sleeping. Go home. She'll talk to you... next week."

"Lemme see her first. Then I'll leave her to you."

"No. Get the fuck out."

"Show her to me or I swear to God, I will tear this place up, and you."

One of the men asked, "What you want, boss? We'll throw him out on his skinny white ass. Teach him a lesson with that fuckin' crowbar."

Todd didn't appear intimidated. Flashed the speaker a half-grin, challenging him to try. The big one was itching to get on with it.

But R.J. knew Todd would fight these guys until he was dead. As long as he breathed, he'd fight to get to Téa. Just like that fuckin' dog at Ty's kennel. He finally relented and said, "Fine. She's right where you left her. Right before you took off with Jovanna." He got to his feet, leaned close to Todd, "Ain't that right? Didn't you leave with one of my girls... didn't she do you up real good?"

"Actually no... she was busy. So I got your mama to _fuck_ me instead."

R.J. laughed bitterly... "Hope you had fun fucking a corpse." He began walking to his office. Todd snapping off at the mouth behind him. "Eh... she was sort of... stiff. Funny, though, she smelled just like you."

It took everything in R.J. to not turn around and get medieval on him. Shaking his head, R.J. hissed, "You're such a fuckin' asshole."

"That I am... and yet, Téa _still_ chooses me over you."

"Don't be so sure. It was my name she was screaming tonight, not yours."

Todd bit on his tongue, breathed to cool himself, then spat, "We'll see who be laughin' last, bitch."

R.J. turned to him and stared him down, Todd doing the same. "If it wasn't for her and your SON," R.J. said, "I'd let you hang. I'd have my guys... kill your ass."

"I know. Consider the complement returned."

Todd soon stood in the office doorway and saw Téa curled up under that blanket on the couch, looking every bit the wounded bird she was. She hardly moved, still looked undressed. She said softly, as if talking hurt. Said, "R.J... I'm so sick..."

Todd turned and glared at R.J. Shot a look that meant nothing but death. R.J. bristled, "I didn't do this to her. She's her own woman, makes her own choices. I respect that, unlike you."

"You were supposed to protect her," Todd hissed. "You SAID you would protect her." He stepped over to Téa and scooped her up in his arms, blanket and all, light as a feather, "Come on, woman. This life ain't for you. Never was, never will be."

"No, no, no, don't move me- Todd?" Immediately, she put her arms around his neck and found herself crying like a baby. "Oh my god...I'm so stupid..."

"Yeah, yeah... I always told you... can't drink without eating."

Softly, she said, "I'm so mad at you..." She rested her head against his chest. Clearly not fighting to get out of his hold on her. He breathed a sigh of relief. She... was choosing HIM. "You tried to kill yourself. How could you do that to me?" She whimpered.

"That's what this is about? Me killing myself? Delgado... shit. I'm fuckin' immortal and you know that. I'm never leaving you, no matter what it might look like. And you know what else? There isn't anything you can do to chase me away. You can be the whore of the century... and I'll still come and get you."

When Téa chuckled in a sickly way, and grasped onto Todd tighter, R.J. stewed. He stewed at the intimacy, at the complete knowledge they had of one another. He stewed at how they had disappeared into a bubble. Standing there, talking, as if in their own room, their own house... as if R.J. Gannon did not exist.

Before stepping out of the office, Todd turned and glared at R.J., mouthing silently, "You're fuckin' dead." Then he said aloud, "Oh... here... I hate your fuckin' shoes." He kicked them off... and kept walking. Across the floor, out the back hallway, out the door.

R.J. leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms. Couldn't believe he'd just watched Téa be carted off by her fuckin' husband who no doubt had gotten his own mad on with Jovanna. He had listened to them talk in hushed voices as they disappeared out the building. So not the fun kind of dysfunction. When he heard the back door get slammed shut... he swept clean his desk, everything crashing to the floor. He cursed like hell... knowing, knowing... he'd been such a goddamn chump.

In that moment, he knew he and Téa were finally over. Done. He would never love her again, never feel her again in his arms. A hell of a goodbye. The worst part was that they were still in business... the business of saving her goddamn husband.

* * *

><p>The beautiful spring morning did not bring good things for Téa Delgado-Manning. Birds sang, light shined through the sheers, a dog barked in the distance. None of it went well with the horrific hangover plaguing her body.<p>

She opened her eyes, finding herself at home, in her luscious bed, lying fast against Todd's naked body. She looked up at him, and caught his light eyes staring right back at her.

Headache, nausea... thank god the children were with Viki. She smelled her own lavender soap on both of them and pulled away from Todd, turning away from him. Buried herself deeper under her covers. Oh my god, she sighed. He had seen her in that office. Saw her with R.J. And yet... hours later... he had come for her. He didn't kill R.J., didn't kill HER.

She was afraid suddenly - afraid that her husband had sunk into the pits of hell again. But then... the night came back to her, and it didn't quite fit with him returning to the needle. Todd got her from the club, held her hair when she finally puked on the side of the road, something she'd been desperately trying to avoid. He'd shot across the seats and held her as she leaned out the open passenger door. Carried her all the way from the car to their bedroom. Held her hair again when she puked in their bathroom.

Then he'd turned the shower on for them. Stripped his and her clothes. Pulled her to her feet. Got them both into the water. Sat her down on the tiles. There, he'd washed her body, tenderly, with her favorite soap. She remembered looking at his face as he used the washcloth on her, rubbing her back. Her neck. Her arms. In between her legs. He never looked her in the eyes. But he never once said a thing about Gannon either.

Then she watched him wash himself... every bit of that bruised, broken body. Téa had spent enough hours with Brandy to know what the shower was all about. A cleansing. A wish to be clean of the filth. That left Téa with no doubt where he'd been all night either.

She felt him leave the bed. Listened to him get dressed. Heard him leave the room, leaving her to her misery. Soon the smell of coffee tickled her nose. Soon, footsteps getting closer. Inching up, drinking from a glass of water that had been put on her night table, she looked towards the door. Todd came in, carrying a tray of coffee, dry toast, and a little collection of pill bottles. More water. He looked sad, still wearing the night like a mask. He stopped at the edge of the bed and studied her.

"You look like crap, Delgado."

She sighed, said, "I feel like crap."

He set the tray down next to Téa. Sat on the corner of the bed, studying his hands, his nails. They sat for the longest while in silence while Téa sipped the coffee, tasted the toast, downed aspirin and a couple of pink stomach pills.

"Hey," he said, "where's my cell?"

"In my purse. R.J. had it. From the China Moon." She looked at him, looked for heroin eyes, not finding them.

"The kids at my sister's?"

She nodded, nibbled on her toast. Looking still a bit green. Sipped more coffee.

"Where's your purse?"

"In my car."

"In R.J.'s parking lot."

"Don't engage with him. Please."

"Not planning on it." He paused again. Lived in the quiet. Then asked, "What day is today?"

"Saturday. What does-"

"Let's get the kids. Before shit gets stirred. Stay here... I'll get them. You won't go anywhere, will you?"

"No, but-."

He got to his feet... looked around, patted his jeans as if he had his keys.

"Todd!" He stopped and looked at her. "You can't drive - not until the doctor gives you the all-clear. If you get pulled over... it's just a pain."

He twisted his mouth, in irritation. Looked sad again. "I need to see them, Delgado."

She sighed, feeling the weight of their lives right now. "I know you do. Me too."

* * *

><p>The day had been brilliant, a dream. Once Todd connected to all the people he needed to connect to, the Delgado-Mannings brought their children home. They made a picnic. Played in the spring sun, running, laughing, exploring the wood behind the house. Afterwards, they napped together in the "big bed." Woke to a quiet bright house. Made their own pizzas for dinner. Enjoyed the children in pizza sauce and cheese and watching the pizza go from a mess of ingredients into... a pizza to eat.<p>

Bliss.

Once night fell, and the kids got their baths, Téa and Todd put the children to bed. Read stories, watched them fall asleep. Afterwards, the two walked to their bedroom and collapsed. They lay in the low-lit room, still dressed. They chatted a bit about the day, laughing quietly over the things the kids said and did.

But soon they lapsed into silence because through the darkened windows, reality crept in like a burglar, an invader, robbing them of their light moods.

Todd sighed and closed his eyes, and Téa rolled away from him. She felt his hand on her hip. Heard him say in a quiet voice, "I'm sorry for everything."

"I don't want to talk about these things," she said, a sudden burst of aching pain breaking through, her eyes watering. "I _can't _talk about it. I'm terrified. I'm paralyzed."

He slid over to her and held her in his arms, her back to his chest, his knees behind her legs. He could feel her body shake with the crying, knowing she'd been keeping it at bay all day. He just held her until she stopped.

"I love you," he said.

"I don't know that any more."

He lived with those words a while. He smoothed her hair, a repetitive, calming thing.

"I never thought about the future in prison, Téa. I lived day to day. Everything that came, I did it... in the moment. Everything made sense... _there._ You and the kids, and our life here... was a dream. I'd get high to leave prison and be with you. My nights... were with you. It was like that book... for kids... Narnia. I'd go through the cell doors... and poof, I was home. But morning would come... and so would the hell. I didn't _accurately _connect my waking world with my sleeping world."

"I know," she whispered. "I get it." She sniffled, said through more tears, "You're tearing me apart with this addiction."

"I know," he said heavily. "It was the only way I could escape. It's been the only thing that's ever worked to..." He thought some moments. "To make me okay with who I am, and where I came from."

"But I can't do it. Everything else, I can handle. Your connections to MK, testifying, not testifying... all that is law. I know law. I know criminals. I know GANGS for god's sake. Everything I can deal with, understand it even... but... this drug? No. The drug I cannot deal with. You take your life in your hands every time you use, and I know in my heart, it will kill you eventually. You're going to go through that Narnia door one day, and you'll never come back."

She turned around and held his face in her hands, "You're not immortal no matter how many times you say it, no matter how many times you've cheated death. You're NOT immortal."

He said nothing, pressing his cheek against her hand, kissing her palm. Looked back at her. "I know," he whispered.

"Your doctor told me something..."

"What?"

"He thinks you have a heart arrhythmia. Caught a little something on your check-up the other day. Do you know what that is?"

"Kinda."

"An irregular heartbeat. He says, if you have it, most likely it's from the heroin. He wants you in for tests. He says... if you really have it, and the other day wasn't just an aberration... you'll drop dead. Could be just doing your thing... and without any warning, you'll keel over."

"Hmm." He sighed, pulled her closer to him. "Sounds easy."

"Todd... don't! This is serious!"

"I know it is..."

"The other day," she continued, "when that man said we'd have to go into witness protection? I didn't imagine a day like today. Beautiful, loving, with just us. That, I could do. I'll go anywhere... with _that_. No, I saw something else. I saw our life NOW. You disappearing. You using. You needing that other thing that you seem to need beyond just the drug. So I saw the needle. I saw that one day, I'd learn you overdosed, or... just died, and I'd have to live my life, alone, forever. Raise my kids by myself, without any support, without any family. The rest of my life hidden someplace alone... so I can be safe. While you lie in a grave. Finally free of your prison."

Turning into her palm again, he stayed there. Pressed against her warmth. In that dark moment, he knew she was right. Of course. The logical, reasoned part of him knew the truth. He should have stayed locked up in that goddamn kennel. But his body, his addled brain, said something else. Always, always... the addiction spoke louder than everything else.

"I don't... _know_... how to live without it," he said.

"I know that. And I know that there is nothing I can say to change this. You learning how to live without it... has to come from YOU."

She sighed. Turned back around. He pulled her close to him, tighter than before. Tight into his belly, his arms squeezing her to him. "If I die," he said, "I'm going to hell, you know... and it's not because of the things I've done, but because I will be without you. I will be in hell... if I'm without you." He kissed her head, her hair in his mouth.

She reached up, placing her hand on his cheek. Nodded her head. "And to lose you will be hell for me. And I feel... that I'm in hell... right now."

"Téa..."

"Don't... don't say anything. You are not with me right now. Your heart and mind are with heroin. I can hear it, see it, feel it. You hid it well from me because it was just in your pocket. But when Rolon injected you... he let in more than just a little of the drug... he filled you with it."

He couldn't deny it. He'd fallen hard off that proverbial wagon. Smacked deep into the mud. And as he lay there in that bed... feeling far away from the drug that had his balls in a vice... he knew he had to change. And he knew... the only way... was to lock himself up somewhere until he no longer felt the love for the drug.

And that would mean leaving Téa in this house... with fucking Gannon down the road. With fucking monsters around the corner. And that brought him right back to square one.

"I'll do this my way," he said.

"I don't care how you do it, just DO IT."

"Okay," he breathed. "I promise." Closed his eyes. After a while his grip on Téa loosened. His breathing softened. Téa knew he'd gone to sleep. She got up from the bed. Light from the hallway let her see his face. She watched him sleep. He looked younger, a little freer. Soft. She bent to him, breathed in his scent... smelling the children's soap, pizza, and his musky scent. She lightly kissed his lips. He didn't even flinch.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean for you to find me with him. That was _my_... indiscretion, _my_ private... moment. Damn you."

Downstairs she set herself at the computer - worked on some files that needed tending. Finalized a motion she'd be filing on behalf of the Serrano she represented. After a while, before it got too late, she dialed Bo Buchanan. He picked up... gruffly answered, said her name, recognizing her number.

"Hi, Bo."

"What can I do for you?"

"R.J. spoke to you?"

"Yes, he did."

"You're with us?"

"Yes. I have witnesses to the corruption in Statesville, willing to testify. A massive investigation starts on Monday. Despite the hard work Shondra Dixon has done... "

"I want to know something - what do the feds want from Todd? I mean, really?"

"They want MK, Téa."

"Do you know what's really going to happen if Pedro goes down and takes his little criminal businesses with him?"

"We get rid of MK as a criminal force in this region."

"No, you'll let in _Los Muertos, _MK's Cuban rivals. They will take over what MK gives up. You will be bringing in far worse than MK. They don't call themselves _Los Muertos_ for nothing."

"Jesus Christ, Téa... there's always going to be some other group-"

"Bo... you think you have a war now? You haven't seen anything yet."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, I'm pleading with you. Do your research. Talk some sense into the Feds. Todd is in even more of a unique position than I thought. More than you know. Use him... but not the way this sonofabitch undercover wants to do it. You do not want to take down Pedro Moreno through Todd. Not this way."

Bo huffed, snorted even. "Téa... you will all be fine under witness protection."

"I don't care about that. I'm asking for your cooperation. Help me get rid of Darryl Warren and this goddamn murder charge."

"And how am I going to do that?"

"By paying attention to information that's soon coming your way."

"Jesus Christ, Téa."

"I'm hoping Jesus is on our side. I'll be in touch."

She did not tell what she knew now of Todd Manning and his connection to MK, about how deep he was in the gang, about how high a level he occupied. He'd been very quiet about it - very secretive about it. _Darryl_ wasn't just after the information man. Pillow talk had gone much farther than she'd anticipated.

_Téa drank up, and drank fast. She knew it would make her brave. Make her hot. All the way to the kennel and back, she sensed R.J. knew more about MK than he was willing to say. She'd been pushing George and Jed, but she couldn't get hard answers that she needed. _

_She understood the feds were after Todd. Knew that he had appeared to have been the killer of Horenda. At the kennel she learned he'd been a mastermind behind the murder, but the "kids" had done the actual killing. Darryl saw Todd with the bloody knife. As circumstantial as it gets, but a hard case to fight in front of a jury. And besides, even if he wasn't the actual killer, being the mastermind was just as bad. Arranging for a killing was equally as first degree as being the killer._

_The goal then was to remove Darryl in some way. Remove the witness. Get that knife to disappear._

_But Téa needed to know more of the truth about Todd. Why were the feds SO interested in him? What did he know that was SO key? An "information" man didn't seem enough. He'd have to know a lot more than just where to get things. She sometimes thought of those buried MK letters. It was pretty amazing that he could get away with hidden tattoos. _

_No gang did that. What was so special about Todd that MK allowed him the dispensation?_

_The music helped her plan, her dark mood helped the night make sense to anyone who watched. She danced and drank and got worked up. She fell into R.J. hands when it was right, after he'd spoken to Bo. She went with him, seduced him. Said her apologies to the night and the crazy man she loved, and slept with R.J. The drunkenness gave her the guts to do it._

_Afterwards, before Todd came crashing into that office, before Téa drank more to make the guilt go away, she asked R.J. the questions she needed answers to. _

"_How deep is he? Why, WHY do they want him so bad?"_

_R.J. shrugged, touching her, caressing her hair, her face... he knew more and Téa could tell._

"_Please, R.J., I'm so tired of not knowing things. I can't work in the dark."_

_He looked her hard in the eyes... "Don't be afraid."_

"_What? Why?"_

"_Baby girl, your man... he's kinda..." He looked towards the door, looked back at her. "Why you think he got these women so... available? Why you think he has heroin so... available? Why you think he don't have to show color, don't have to walk out in the open or do low-level crime? In fact, he don't ever do much... out in the open."_

"_He's got money?" Téa recalled the night at the Francis Club, how Leticia sat on his lap and the men had just looked on, looking respectful. Remembered how Pedro watched him, deferring to Todd. Todd had shaken his head, no, and it was Pedro agreeing with HIM. She remembered how the men had all deferred first to Pedro on the fight, but then chased after the man who danced with Téa... at Todd's command. She remembered that... his nod, and they were all gone. Jed had said, "He's in deep."_

"_No, beautiful," R.J. said, "It's because your husband is right behind Pedro Moreno. Like... if something happens to Moreno, Manning will step in as head of MK."_

_She fired to a sitting position, "WHAT? HOW? How is that possible?"_

"_Moreno made it so. Manning... he's a fucking genius with gang business. He's managed to make MK look like Microsoft - mainstream, healthy, legal. Underneath, though, hidden, is the real illegality. The Mambo Kings run major gambling, drug distribution, and the influx of most illegal weapons. MK controls the underground in this area. But none of it is traceable."_

"_But how can he be a head when he's not Cuban?"_

"_Don't matter no more. They believe he was brought to them by God. Some story of him knowing some special name or something... Anyway, they want him. The branches respect him. They listen to him because he's like fuckin' Midas. Fact that he's turned around MK? Made it into this solid, long-term organization? He's in hard. It's known and accepted... if Pedro goes down, Todd takes over. That's why the Serranos were after him at that club the other night."_

"_And why shouldn't I be scared as hell, R.J.?!"_

"'_Cause that fool has a plan to get out... but this Darryl thing has derailed shit. His... insane deal with the devil... has fucked it all up. And his goddamn addiction... well, it's going to REALLY fuck things up."_

_She reached down to the floor and picked up her drink. Drank the rest of the vodka-tonic. _

"_Kiss me again," she said. _

_Holy shit, she thought. Holy, holy, SHIT._

* * *

><p>One in the morning and Téa crawled into bed. Todd had his arms thrown back against the pillows, sleeping hard... but he would wake easily. Convicts... never really sleep unless they're drugged. He was undressed, the clothes on the floor. The sheets rode low. Light from a bright moon lit up the tattoos and scars from his hellish life. She could see the MK letters bright as day, <em>now. <em>

Téa took off her clothes and got next to him. She ran a hand down from his shoulder to the line of hair that dipped below the sheet. Moved back up. Even asleep she could feel tight muscles. He worked out nearly every day, running five or six miles, lifting weights in their gym. He didn't listen to music when he worked out. He focused on noise she could not hear. Sometimes she'd have to call loudly, touch him - he wouldn't hear or see anything but what was in his head as he lifted those weights or punched that punching bag.

Unlike other people, his workouts had nothing to do with appearance. He never looked in a mirror unless he was getting dressed. And she always saw his distaste at the sight.

No, he was doing it so he'd always win a fight. Doing it... to break out of prison. Téa moved in close to him. He moved at that, cracking open eyes, hugged her to him. His hand moved down and when he felt she had no clothes, he really opened his eyes. Turned his head to see her.

"I need to feel you're here," she said, every part of her touching part of him.

"I'm here."

"I know who you are," she said.

"And who am I?"

"You're the next head of the Mambo Kings and don't deny it."

He sighed and lifted her onto him, grunting softly as he did it. She could feel him growing beneath her body. She shook her head.

"Not until you admit it."

He moved her slowly. "Save me," he said.

"Tell me the truth."

"I won't have any more secrets."

"Good. Admit it."

He looked into her eyes and she could see him contemplating whether to lie or admit things. "I don't want to scare you... I want to protect you."

"I need to hear it from your lips."

"Delgado... I love you."

"Tell me."

"Tell me you love me."

"I love you. Admit it." Téa had her hand on his throat and she felt his Adam's apple move with the hard swallow.

He took her hand and held it in his. "Yes," he whispered. "If something happens to Pedro Moreno, I will be running MK. It's why Darryl has such a hard-on for me."

She rolled off him, and he whimpered with the pain of feeling her leave him.

"God... damn it," she murmured, turning over onto her side, away from him.

"How did you learn this?"

"Pillow talk, Todd, pillow talk."

He sat up, knees up, arms around his knees, glancing at her. Darkly. "That's not normal pillow talk."

"I know... it wasn't a normal fuck."

"What the hell does that mean?!" She could hear the disgust that must have been on his face.

She sat up, "I was with R.J... to get information. None of you were cooperating with me... so I got cooperation. The old-fashioned way."

He looked far away into the dark, his head turned away from Téa. Whispered, "You're killing me, woman. MK, dope... they have nothing on what you do to me." She could hear the break in his voice.

"I told you I wouldn't live in the dark anymore. So I'm not. Look at me..." He didn't. "LOOK AT ME!"

He spat, "What?"

"Is there anything else you aren't telling me?"

"Details on everything."

"You're going to share, whenever I ask, whatever it is I need to know?"

"Whatever you want."

"Good."

She slid back down under the sheets. Studied him as he brooded in the dark. She eyed more scars on his back... the Grim Reaper that seemed to be reaching out to anyone who looked. And right next to the Reaper, tucked beneath the shade, sat the dark angel that seemed a sickening blend of his Delgado and Brandy. Tomorrow, she had questions for him and he would answer. But now wasn't the time. He needed her. Needed to remember why he breathed.

She sat up... and moved onto his lap, held his face, looking into those angry eyes of his. Then she kissed him, forcefully. His hands shot immediately in her hair, pulling at it...

...so he could take what was his, and only his.

In a few quick moves, he threw her back onto the bed, turned her over onto her belly, and grabbed her hips to him, driving deep inside of her. Téa huffed with every violent thrust, knowing he was claiming her, reminding her of who she belonged to. She grabbed the sheets, and headboard post, and held herself tight against his strength which he showed now, which he used now... it wasn't lost on her that he wasn't facing her, that she was in a subservient position. That this way, his size sent waves throughout her body and he knew it.

"God, god...damn you..," she groaned, her eyes watering with the hate for the world that she felt all over his body, in his sweat, in that swinging hair. She moaned from the depths of her soul feeling the maddening love he had for her.

He pushed himself up with one hand, the other holding onto her ass. He dropped down next to her ear, hissing... "You go with him again and I promise you... I will KILL HIM. If you care one ounce for HIM... you will never... FUCKING... do that again. You're mine... MINE."

He moved hard, harder, until he finally shuddered, his seed spilling hot deep inside of her... and he fell on top of her, the two of them breathless. Téa reached back and pulled his hair, bringing him close to her...

"And if you... you sonofabitch, if YOU ever touch a fucking whore again, I won't kill her... I _promise... _I will kill YOU. Do you hear me? I... will… _KILL _you."

She let go of him, pulled away, kicking at him. She sat up, her skin glistening in the moon's light, her brown hair wild, looking like a wolf. With a hand on his throat, she climbed on top of him. The two eyed each other, black as death. She got that heroin was a big fight for him... Relapses would happen. The whores though were an easy fix.

"Do you hear me," she asked. "Do you understand? I _am_ the only whore you're allowed to touch."

"I hear you," he said, with light eyes full of darkness. "My only _whore_."

She slapped him hard, blood-hard, and he grinned at that, salted red seeping into his mouth. She got his still-hard cock inside of her, and with fingernails driving into his chest, rode him until she screamed.

MK didn't know it yet, but the most powerful crime organization in the cold northeast now had a Puerto Rican queen in its midst.

**To be continued...**


	28. Chapter 28

**Caged **

**Chapter 28**

**[Disclaimer: sensitive material regarding abuse.]**

When Téa opened her eyes to the sun, she couldn't move because she had two children and a husband wrapped around her. Reese had been brought to the bed by a tired Todd around three, and Lucia had made her way there around five in the morning. She studied Todd in the early light. Since learning of his true position in MK, she had to look at him with different eyes, more critically than ever before. He had always been withdrawn in some way, but now... she wasn't going to let him get away with anything. Looked at those tattoos again. Wondered now about the lines built into the snake. Lines with different shading, as if added at different times. Why add lines at different times, unless each line meant something? She had a feeling she knew what they meant.

A sinking, terrible feeling.

_Really, Delgado? As if anything else could possibly shock you? You're in the money, now. You better be ready. For everything. He's the next head of the Mambo Kings for god's sake._

Someone rang the doorbell. She hugged the children tighter to her body.

"Manning," Téa whispered...

"Delgado...," Todd whispered back. Opened his light eyes to her. They moved back and forth along her features. Lids slammed back shut.

"Come on, might be Heather," she whispered to him, only with more force.

He breathed in deeply, lifted his head and glanced at the clock. "Crap." Growled at the bell's impatience. "Fine, I'll get it. Have to get up anyway." Kicking back the sheets, he put his bare feet on the floor. Sat on the bed a moment and turned to look at Téa. Glanced over the kids. Shook his head and walked to the bathroom, wearing boxers only. Shut the door, mostly, splashed water on his face to wake up, brushed his teeth. Stood still, looking in the mirror, muttering as he checked out his chest and touched his mouth, "Nice work, Delgado."

"I have my talents," Téa answered back, knowing she had scratched the hell out of him.

He snorted. Took a piss. Walked back out, looking sleepy, pulled on a pair of jeans. Yanked a tee-shirt on. "Don't wanna scare the help." He then made his way downstairs.

Téa hugged the kids to her again. She was sore from Todd's... _reclaiming_ of her. She hadn't felt this way since the day he came back from Statesville. She massaged the insides of her thighs. Jesus... he'd been so desperate for her those days. Made love like he was going to lose her any minute, like someone was going to interrupt them, throw him back into prison or worse. Like last night... making love like he was losing her. Ironic since he was the one sinking into his heroin hell, hookers and all.

She hoped he was in pain, too. Hoped her nails caused pain, hoped he had a good solid cut on his lip or the inside of his mouth that hurt. Hoped his heart was even more wounded than his body. Hers certainly was.

She heard voices and then Todd's quick footsteps up the stairs. He slid into the room, saying in a soft voice, "Heather's here. Back to normal, yeah?"

"Is it?" Téa spoke softly, too.

"Don't get philosophical on me."

"Tell me something... just answer me."

"What?"

"That snake... your tattoo... the lines were added at different dates. Why?"

"Filling in...adding depth, quality, a sense of fluidity..." He was being sarcastic.

"One line for each person you killed, right?"

Todd looked at her, then burst out into a quiet laugh... then didn't. He smiled... then didn't. Just watched her.

Téa sighed, and looked away. He leaned down to her, said in her ear... "The _lines _don't tell that story. The teardrops do, these... the ones that run up and down my arms alongside the other shit... and they've been there from before Statesville, and since. All kinds of deaths, in my life."

She reached up and touched his face, "You scare me now. Things are different now."

"I know."

"What are you doing today?"

"Working." He shuffled to the dresser. Pulled clothes out of the drawer.

"Where?"

He stopped, had his hands on the dresser top. His head dropped slightly. Said quietly, "I'm going to Llanview Psych. Meeting Tim there, and people from the substance abuse program."

Téa scooted, sitting up. "Really? Today?"

"Yeah, today. I can't be crazy now that you know everything. I gotta watch you, woman. Too much...too much..." He murmured more words Téa couldn't understand. He got back into the bathroom and turned the shower on. The door slammed shut.

Téa shuffled down into the covers, the kids waking. They smiled and kissed her and demanded things. Yeah... another normal day. Her phone lit up. She reached and saw it was R.J. Gannon texting her. Asking her to call when she had a chance. Todd was busy, so she called. He answered quickly.

"Hey," Téa said softly.

"Can you talk?"

"Yeah. He's showering."

"You okay? You didn't answer my calls yesterday."

"I know. Todd and I were with the kids. Just here at home. I'm fine."

"So... he's okay?"

"No, he's not. But I AM, and now I can start putting things together, figuring this out. Because I know the truth now. The whole truth and nothing but the truth."

"Good." He paused. Breathed out harshly. "Know I'm here for you, girl. Anything you need. I didn't want you to think that... 'cuz shit went south that I'd turn my back on you. I won't. Not ever."

Téa closed her eyes and pressed the phone to her cheek... as if it was R.J.'s hand. "Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry. For the other night."

"No worries. I knew what I was getting into. You were honest with me." They were quiet some moments.

"Hey, Jed has gone missing - ignoring me, Todd... have you seen him?"

"Yeah, he's uh... he's with me. At my place. Jovanna is helping him out with Rose."

That hurt. Why Jed didn't feel he could be here. But of course, Téa had chosen Todd and Jed was still too angry, too raw, about Todd's threats against Rose, empty or not. She had no idea how he felt about Leticia being dead, about having Rose full time, about anything. Jed was alone again. Running away... again.

"Oh god," she sighed.

R.J. spoke a little raggedly, "I got him, okay? I'm talkin' to him. He's... gonna need some time. He's a father now. And the only real father he knows is... one very fucked-up one, and you're with him, so..."

"I know."

"Okay … be careful, girl. You got yourself a hell of a life now. _Knowing_... is a risky thing."

Téa put the phone down. Talked with the kids, listened to their dreams. Watched as Todd crossed the room, looking neat, put together in his favorite black chic casual, hair in a pony today, goatee neatly trimmed. He looked a different person than two days ago at the kennel. He bent and kissed the kids. Looked at Téa.

"I'll call you."

He smelled good and Lucia grabbed him around the neck, breathing in the light cologne he wore. "I love you, Papi," Lucia said. He grabbed her tight, swinging her around, getting her to giggle. "I love you, too, _preciosa_." Of course the game stirred Reese and Todd put Lucia down to give little Reese a swing, only Todd held Reese tighter, more securely. Reese was still a baby and he laughed and held tight. "Okay, monkey," Todd said, "I love you." Dropped Reese back onto the bed. Smiled at Téa, a little sadly.

The kids followed him as he left the room. Heather was at the bottom of the stairs waiting for them. The front door opened, then closed.

Téa got up and stood at the window. He wasn't allowed to drive but Téa said nothing. He was a big boy, knew the consequences - he could handle his life complications. She watched Todd saunter down the driveway to a waiting car that she didn't know. An old restored car. He looked up at Téa, pulled his phone out. Her cell vibrated with the text.

"Rolon Lopez."

She texted back, "Llanview Psych?"

His response, "Yes. _Te prometo_."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"_Te prometo_."

She shook her head and waved in the window, wishing she could believe in his words. He'd promised such things before. She remembered his incredible commitment to Granite's rehab program, walking away from her, and ending up in some motel with Brandy... where she ended up dead, and Todd... in prison. He looked up at her for a few seconds and then disappeared into the car before driving away. Her hand lingered on the glass as she kept watch outside the gates to their house. She looked up and down the street. Silence there. But not inside her head.

What _was_ this life she had now?

_Please, please, get thee to the hospital. And stay there._

* * *

><p>The morning had been very long, very painful, stretching deep into the afternoon. Todd had acted tough with Rolon, told him to drop him at the Sun. Huddled in his office for a short while, drinking booze to give him liquid courage. He took a cab to Llanview Psych. Like he'd promised.<p>

Tim Graham met him in the lobby and walked him to his office. When Tim shut the door, a wild-eyed Todd turned around and said, "I'm an addict, and it's fucking bad. I used a needle, like voluntarily, like... ready, willing, and able... and-and my lawyer threw me into a fucking kennel, locked me in, and-and I-I made friends with an insane pit bill, and I want it again, Tim... I wanna get high again with that fuckin' needle. And if you don't help me, I'm walking out that goddamn door and I'm gonna shoot up. Do you understand?! Do you hear me?!" Todd had pointed in the direction of Sixteenth Street, "It's calling me every second since Rolon fucked me up... and if you don't do something NOW, I'm going right back there! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

Todd sat down hard on a chair in front of the big desk, and when Tim said, "Yeah, kiddo, I hear you, I hear you. I'm going to help you," Todd hunched into the seat and held his head in his hands, sobbing muffled like a baby. Like the biggest fucking baby. Like he always did in his worst moments. Through wet, snotty tears, hiding in his hands, Todd said, "I drove around for hours with a fucking whore in a truck that I fucking STOLE, fondling a needle... like... like... like I don't know what and when I decided not to dose, I fucked that girl... because I had to do something... and I can't live like that...it's killing me... god damn it's killing me... my family..."

Tim had come close and put his heavy hand on Todd's head, moving his fingers against his scalp, saying, "Yeah, I know... I know... I hear you...It's not easy."

Todd had looked up at Tim, "I don't want to be that man anymore. But I'm scared that it's the only man I can be."

"You're the only one who can make that call."

"I'm gonna die from this, Superman. I fuckin' know it. It's eating me up..."

"Well, you're here. Might be cliche, but... it's the first step towards life."

So he got fired into the outpatient program, having immediate intensive one-on-one therapy with an addiction specialist. He got stuck into group therapy, too. He was familiar with the process, and it tore him up to be sitting in that circle because it made him feel like he made no progress in his life for the past ten years and there's nothing worse than being made to feel like your life is a wasteland.

Yeah, a _fucking_ wasteland.

Nothing proved it more than Miss Goth across the circle, sitting directly across from him. At some point he found himself catching her gaze, eyeing a skinny, pierced, goth-looking thing, her intensity telling him she wanted to fuck his brains out. Like Pavlov's dog, he thought about it. Thought about dragging her to the bathroom, pitching her ass-up so he could give her what-for. She wasn't his type at all... but there was a kismet quality to her gaze, the quality that said, "replacement therapy."Yeah, when he heard those thoughts in his head, when he felt his cock tighten, he held his head in his hands again, fighting tears, and having to get private time with the group therapy guy just so he could stop the wracking pain.

"Sex is your other addiction."

"Yes. Replacement."

"And it can't be your wife."

"No... because it's just a drug and... and... she isn't that." He fought tears again, shamed beyond words.

"Very common..." Group therapy guy texted the addiction specialist. "You got work tomorrow, Mr. Manning. Here's my number. You think you're going to go off tonight, you call me. Feel me? Don't waste a second. CALL ME, Ed. I'm your official sponsor."

They talked a long while and he nearly checked himself into the residential program. But he didn't. The therapy was going to be rough enough: every day, seven days a week for eight weeks, nights off only... Ed shook his head, "You're making a mistake. You're fragile... too close to the drug. You really need to get a room, man."

"I'll be fine - I'm determined."

When he was finally done for the day, he stepped outside to wait for the cab in the dusky night air. Leaned back against the brick wall of the hospital at the guest entrance. Lit up and breathed in the cigarette smoke. Found himself not wanting to go home. Looked at his phone a couple of times, putting it right back into his pocket. Thought to hit the Havana to get business done.

When he lit up the third cigarette, finally feeling his nerves settle, he found himself looking directly at Miss Goth, standing all petite in front of him. He shivered with that goddamn want. All kinds of bells went off in his head.

_Call Ed._

She grinned, all dark eyes, dark hair falling all over the place.

"You got a ciggie, big boy?"

_Te prometo._

He handed her one from his dwindling pack and flicked his lighter. Todd watched her mouth. She sucked hard, purple lipstick covering the end of the stick. She grinned to the side, her teeth biting her bottom lip. "You wanna go somewheres wi' me?"

He shook his head, and then drawled a breathy, "Yeah."

She chuckled. "You know you can't, brother. You're in _recovery._"

"So why don't you drag your recovering ass back inside then?"

"'Cause I'm fuckin' curious about you. 'Cause I think I know you."

He knocked his head back. "What.. you see my mug shot at the post office?"

"Nahh... but I did see you at Statesville..."

"Oh hell no..." He sucked up that cigarette. Flicked the ashes. Watched them fall.

She laughed, "I used to visit my brother there. Fact, you know him. Ty Jerome?"

Todd shook his head, rolled his eyes. Nice... wouldn't Ty just love him even more if he banged his little sister in a taxicab before throwing her out on the street before he got to the Havana. So dignified. So... upright citizen-like. Cleared his throat, "So glad you told me before I did something I'd live to regret."

More laughing. "He was scared shitless of you. Pointed you out one afternoon. I kinda liked you." She got really close to him, dragged her eyes up from his boots to his cool eyes. "Liked how fuckin' hard you looked. You clean up nice."

"My mom taught me well."

She looked away then looked back at him. "I thought you'd like to know something."

Todd looked open.

"I know Darryl... what he go by now? Oh yeah, Darryl Warren. Ty called me last night."

Todd stopped breathing a second, stepped back. She grinned. "Ain't you all about gettin' information?"

"That's my trade, yeah, the newspaper biz."

"Take me someplace quiet and private. To talk. Your office in that nice glass building, big boy?"

The cab rolled up. He considered. Reconsidered. Considered again. Thought about running back inside the hospital. Going home, maybe. Then... he put his hand out... "My chariot," he said.

"Thank you, dear sir."

_Te prometo._

* * *

><p>The Havana Restaurant was hopping even though it was a very late Sunday night. Todd had been summoned by Pedro Moreno, interrupting his... er... very informative chat with Miss Goth. How he got here, he really couldn't say. He dream-walked through the front door, floating on air, ignoring Leya Moreno entirely until he got close to her. Her perfume caught his attention. He hadn't seen her since their little tête-à-tête, the little lesson he felt he needed to teach her. He slowed his wounded panther's watery walk and delicately touched her arm. She flashed dark brown eyes, fearful now. Surprised to see him.<p>

"Sorry if I hurt you the other night," Todd said, his voice ragged, soft. He had a hard time focusing on her angel's face. He licked his lips. "I'm so very sorry."

She shook her head, a face clouded in softness. Her voice sounded far away.

"Are you okay, _Blanco_?" She reached up and touched his face and he leaned into her hand, pressing gently. His eyes closed at her touch, a touch that felt like the warm water of a tropical sea. He instinctively turned his mouth onto her palm and kissed it. He did not see her eyes get huge, a smile fighting to break out onto her lips. She pressed her lips together to keep it in check. One of the waitresses stopped frozen in her tracks at the sight of _El Diablo Blanco _being... oh-so-sweet. The two women shook their heads.

"_Blanco?"_

"Yeah... yeah," he said. "... Are you ok? I'm sorry, I said, for the other night. For acting like an animal."

She gently pulled her hand away from him. He looked... disheveled, much less put together than he usually was. His wool coat lay open, revealing an untucked black silken shirt, open almost to his navel. Buttons missing. So much open that his tattoos showed and he never let that happen. His hair was messy, hanging down on face, and he literally could not keep his eyes on anything straight. He was clearly drunk, or something. She had heard rumors.

_Stone cold junkie._

"I'm fine," she said. "Don't worry about anything. I overstepped. I learned an invaluable lesson. Thanks to you."

She smiled like an angel. He studied the aura around her. "You're beautiful... like my daughter." He grabbed the podium, swayed a little. Looked around. "Yeah, yeah."

"My father is in the back room... but I think maybe... are you sure you're okay?"

"You did nothing wrong, you know, other than be... beautiful and daring. Don't thank me. Ever." He smiled softly, glanced down, caught her eyes again, only briefly. "One day you're going to find someone worthy of you. Wait for him."

She smiled, blushing like mad. "I think... you're more worthy than you say."

"Wait for him. Someone who is nothing like me."

He walked away, feeling her innocent eyes boring into his back. He'd just left his office. Left Miss Goth sleeping, or something. The opposite of innocence. He'd done enough, heard enough. Despite the hell he'd just left, for the first time in a long while, he had hope echoing through him. Not total hope, just the edge of hope. Kind of like a silver lining of hope. A string to pull himself out of the shithole he'd found himself in. So yeah, a little hope...

... and a whole shitload of heroin right up his fuckin' nose. It had tasted... so... so good. He laughed a little, could hardly fuckin' walk, kept bumping into the hallway's wall. Figured he could cover it up. Pedro... would never know he was high.

_Fffffuck._

* * *

><p>"<em>So you into the heron, yeah?" She stood at his windows. Long legs covered in waif-like woolen stockings under a black and white striped skirt that reached to her knees. Her leather jacket would have made a dissonant cover except it matched her black work boots.<em>

"_Yeah."_

"_Same here. That and everything else, too. You name it, I love it."_

"_So you won't turn down scotch then?"_

"_Bring it."_

_The sight of Llanview was beautiful, city lights shining through Todd's massive office only other light in his office came from small lamps on a couple of coffee tables. He texted Téa, letting her know he was at the Sun. That he would be home soon._

_The two drank and smoked a couple more cigarettes. "So what you have on Darryl?"_

_She grinned and shook her head, "Information for a kiss. A little trade."_

_He got a little pissed, sucked down more of his drink. He wanted to know about Darryl...and every moment seemed closer to disaster. He had wanted trouble when he'd seen her at the hospital, but the whiskey had made him...irritable. His head buzzed. His teeth itched._

_Leaning against his desk, he watched as she sprawled on his couch, her hands rubbing the soft leather. She laughed, wagged her black-nailed finger at him. "You got a sex problem, too, doncha?" She laughed a little harder, then added, "Don't we all?"_

_She got up and sacheted over to him, shoved herself hard in between his legs. Moved her hips against him and glanced up with a whore's eyes. She did not notice the twitchy upper lip. He grabbed her hips and moved her back. Shook his head... "I clean up... only on the outside."_

_She grinned, "Wow. What the hell does that mean?" Got close again, purred, "Come on, let's fuck before I tell you about Darryl."_

_He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her to him, her drink falling to the ground at the shock of it. She gasped hard, "God, that hurts..." Her face pinched with the pain of it, but there was a thrill in her eyes. Her hand reached to his. _

_He breathed in her scent, the tip of his nose running along her cheek. He said quietly, softly, "If I want to fuck you, I'll let you know. I am the one... to let you know."_

_He shoved her back and she tripped a little, regaining herself. She adjusted her clothes and then grinned. "Okay... yeah... Ty was right about you. You a hard motherfucker who don't like anyone getting in his face." She nodded, bent and picked up her glass. "I get your meaning... you haven't changed inside yourself. You look mighty pretty on the outside, but inside... you just as ugly and hard as when you was at Statesville."_

"_What did you want to tell me about Darryl? Talk."_

_She shook her empty glass. "I can get it myself." She walked to the bar and poured herself a drink. She trembled as she drank. _

"_Sorry," Todd said coolly, twisting his wedding ring._

"_I bet you are." She laughed softly, "You kinda get off on hurting people. Women. I felt it. I heard it in your voice and the way you breathed. You got turned on."_

_He stayed quiet, drank more. Swished the drink in his mouth. He didn't like her anymore. _

_She turned around. "He told me a lot about you. Like I said, I kinda liked you."_

"_You like people who look like they could cause you pain?"_

_She looked up at him, a different look on her face now. She smiled. "Yes, yes I do."_

"_Least you own it. What's your name, woman?"_

"_Violet Grace Jerome."_

"_The fuck is wrong with you?"_

"_Long story. Ty and I got no real family anymore. He's got his dogs... I have people like you." She put down her glass. Unzipped her jacket and opened it up... flashing pierced nipples and a lot of scarring on her belly, scarring that reached around to her back. She dropped the jacket. Turned around, showing how far back those cuts went. More scars up and down her arms. She held her hands in front of her heart. "My daddy's name was Ruben. He was hot... like you. Me and Ty was his only babies. Our mama died when we was still little... she was hot, too. Until she wasn't. Died of a drug overdose. That my daddy caused."_

_Todd drank the rest of his drink down. Walked to the bar and poured himself some more. Drank it down. Looked at Violet. "Sonofabitch."_

_She laughed, "Well, yeah. But I loved that sonofabitch Ruben 'cause he fed me, gave me a bed to sleep in, took care of me and Ty the best he could. At some point though, Ty got taken away. My daddy... was involved in the meth trade. He distributed across state lines. That's when I met your... Darryl. He bought shit from my daddy. Called himself a 'representative of the docks.'" She laughed quietly, played with her hair. Twisted a lock into a braid. She looked up at Todd. Held his gaze. "You want a braid?"_

"_No."_

_She bent down and picked her jacket up. Put it on. Letting it fall open. She played with a button. "Anyway, Darryl wanted to distribute too. He spent hours with Daddy, asking questions, wanting to learn everything. He was just a teenager. Looked like any other kid. He'd come over to make buys and be all itching and tweaked out. And I'd be there, helping Daddy Ruben. 'Cause I loved him." She stretched her arms out to her side, picked up her drink. Sipped it. _

"_Darryl started to take a shine to me. Daddy Ruben was real proud, too, having me dance for Darryl, showing off my ability to make smoke rings... One day, Darryl came by when Daddy wasn't home. Brought me a new skirt to dance in. And he... Darryl... sat with me... and asked me to dance. I did. Then he pulled me on his lap." _

"_Shit." Todd drank some more. Pulled his hair back that had long come out of the pony. Watched Violet in the shadow of his office. Her small breasts made her look years younger than she was. She hadn't had kids he was sure... girls like her were sterile._

_She grinned, her face distant. "He started bouncing me on his lap until he was shaking like crazy and mooing like a cow and my skirt was up around my waist and my wet panties was all twisted between my spread legs." She smiled. Glanced at Todd. "He started coming over every day, smoking meth in our living room, and getting me on his lap... and each time more clothes would come off 'til he was bouncing me so hard he was inside of me. When he realized I was no virgin thanks to my Daddy Ruben, he did more. Got into every opening that I had. He liked what he was doing so much, he made movies."_

"_So what, Darryl was your teenage boyfriend. Nothing wrong with young love."_

_She smiled... "I was ten." The smile disappeared. "Darryl worked for the FBI. He was special 'cause he was like only 19 or somethin'. He was a prodigy, he said. On account of his age, he could go anywhere, do anything. Thought to impress me I s'pose. Even showed me his badge. He said he was there to catch Daddy and his suppliers. I wanted to protect my daddy. I thought maybe Daddy Ruben would... not like what he saw … and so I asked Darryl to come over knowing my daddy would show up. I was right. Ruben came home and found Darryl humpin' away on me and tried to kill him... but Darryl showed Ruben who was boss... and..."_

_Violet breathed in, closing her eyes, pressed the jacket close to her. She looked up at him. "Darryl didn't want to leave me with Daddy Ruben so he cut me up. Darryl did this to me to make me ugly, so Daddy Ruben would never be able to use me again."_

"_Did he? Use you again?"_

"'_Course he did. Nothing Darryl did would ever stop my daddy from loving me. My daddy died, though. Eventually."_

"_What happened to the movies?"_

"_Don't know, but I took a couple... carry 'em wherever I go. 'cause I like to watch 'em. I get hot when I watch."_

_Todd cleared his throat. Sucked down his drink. "How did you know I would be at Llanview Psych today?"_

"_I didn't. I followed you from your house. To this place... to the hospital. Ty knew your address. When you met your doctor... I waited around. When you walked to the group... I saw it was for addicts, new and old, so...I just sat in. I listened to you. I watched you. Watched you hard. I liked when you watched me back. Mmm... your eyes took all a'me in. I felt that. I saw that." She grinned at him. Ran a tongue along her lips. "I liked how hard you looked at me."_

"_Why didn't you just have Ty tell me about what you knew?"_

"_I wanted to get to know you... my way. I wanted to know if you was worth giving up my movies for." She got near him, delicately took his hand, and had him touch her. Huffed a little as she moved his hand against her nipple. "I think... I think...," she breathed, "I think we understand each other."_

_He pulled his hand away, shaking his head. "I'm not Ruben. Or Darryl. Nothing like those sick bastards."_

"_You may not like kids... but you just as sick. Anyway, I'm not a child anymore. I know what I'm doing. So do you. We consenting adults. You like pulling my hair, I like you doing it. I betcha you got all sorts of hurtin' ideas up in that head of yours. A little pull here, a little bite there, a little chokin' while you comin' inside of me.. we a match made in heaven."_

_Todd shook his head... and whispered, "I'm sorry for what happened to you."_

_Violet fell onto the couch, seemingly back in the present. "You're just being modest. You want to fuck me, you want to do all kinds of shit to me." She leaned back, arms back, jacket off again. One leg up on the couch's back, the other on the floor. She caressed her belly, her chest, eyes closed. She'd cut the crotch out of her stockings. She writhed on the couch as she spoke._

"_I thought Darryl had disappeared into the shit he come from," she said, "But then Ty called. He said... 'my friend is in trouble. Hey sister, hey sister,' he said. 'I just learned a real bad guy was in the FBI and... and... his name was Darryl and he's a piece of shit... and didn't a piece of shit named Darryl fuck with you one time that was in the FBI?' What are the chances of that, I said. I sent him a picture from my movies. He said, 'holy motherfuckin' shit.'"_

_She stuck her hand under her skirt, at the absent crotch of the woolen stockings... opening her eyes and smiling at Todd. _

"_Holy motherfuckin' shit, he said to me."_

_She moved her hand slowly until she was moaning... well exposed. Todd looked away, deeply triggered, and not in a good way. His stomach lurched because he was looking at Brandy... god damn it... and Diego... and Smithy... and himself. He bit down hard on his tongue until he tasted blood. Watched her some more as she danced and jerked and groaned on the couch, her parts laying open and unprotected. The sight got so painful for him that he fell to his knees and put his head on her belly, his hands, too, on those scars._

"_Stop, stop, stop...please...," he whispered._

"_I'm so close... god, god..." She held his head with one hand and rubbed herself with the other. She took his hand and put it around her throat, groaning, "Squeeze... hurry... before I come..." He dug his head into her ribs, not able to do what she wanted. She screamed in frustration, "Fuck you then," rubbing furiously. She then dug her own nails into the delicate skin of her breast, dug so deep she drew blood._

_Full of madness, a brokenness he knew._

_He reached across her, holding her body as she bucked wildly. Held her as if he could keep her from going into her past but... she was already there. She lived there. She sighed when the waves ended. Looked at Todd. Smiled, breathless. She laughed. _

"_What's the matter, big boy... you don't like it to hurt, too? You a fuckin' liar." She grabbed his hand and showed his wrist to the light. "You like the pain." Whispered, "Just like me."_

_He pulled his hand back, got to his knees. Couldn't take his eyes off hers._

_She sat up and tore open his shirt... exposed Téa's damage of him. "I knew that's what I was lookin' at." She laughed that he wasn't fighting her like before. "Oh honey, I fuckin' freaked you out." Laughed again, a chuckle that lasted a while._

_He pulled away from her. Stood up and away. He could hardly breathe, as close to having a flashback to his own abuse as he'd been in years. He held onto the bar's countertop to prevent himself from falling into his memories. He dropped his head and felt the cool marble against his forehead, his hand on his chest, touching the cuts in his skin. Come on, he said to himself, over and over. _

Come on... come on... come on... stay here... stay here...

"_Damn you're shy," she said, holding her hands to her face, breathing in her own scent. She turned on the couch, looked at him as he straightened up... and stared into nothing. _

"_Ty said... you... um... you go with men and women. I like that. That's hot. Is that why you don't want to fuck me? You wishing Ty was here instead?"_

_Todd shook his head, his voice heavy, choked. "No." He poured more scotch. Sucked it down. Grabbed a cigarette and lit up. He was shaking. Took a few breaths to settle his brain. To stay in the present. He was walking a very fine line to madness. He could feel that electric buzz in his head, in his chest now, spreading._

"_What's that mean? You callin' my brother a liar? He lived with you. He knows. He don't lie."_

"_It means, no, not exactly. It means... I do shit to get through life and sometimes, people is people and... they're all the same. They're all bastards and bitches... and they all _fuck _you just the same."_

"_You get inside the men with your dick? Up their asses?"_

"_No."_

"_They get inside you?"_

"_No. Nobody does that... I'll kill 'em first."_

"_Ohhh... just touching and licking and humping and shit. That's hot. I do the same.. both ways. Just like you. We go according to mood. Like tonight... you want dick."_

"_It's not like that...I don't GO with men...I don't choose that..."_

"_What's it like then, baby? Tell me... please..."_

_He looked at her, a fellow whore, her face open, serious, curious... he had never talked about this, never. Not with Tim, never. He swallowed, looked at his hands, at the burns on his wrist. Pressed them. _

"_They're both the same to me. They're useable... and they use back just the same. My cock... doesn't discriminate. It gets hard and comes no matter who rubs on it. My father taught me, just like yours taught you. Sex is not love and my body don't know the difference."_

_She smiled, "So shit just happens. Sometimes... shit happens with the same sex and your body don't care as long as you or them is getting what you need." She pointed to her head, to her heart. "What those other parts need."_

_He shrugged._

"_So... if I just happened to have a dick... and I get to touching you, and rubbing up on you... you won't stop me if you're getting something from it."_

"_If I'm high. Yeah, maybe."_

"_But you won't go out of your way to get with him."_

"_No."_

"_So... if you get high now... and I get to touching you, you probably won't stop me either. Shit just happens to you. If you want it or need it... you just let it happen. And if it ain't happening and you need it, you'll take it. You'll take what's right next to you."_

_He breathed and closed his eyes. Stood silent a long while. "Get up," he finally said. "I'll take you home. Wherever that is. I'll talk to Ty." He almost didn't care about Darryl anymore. She'd mind-fucked him, but good. He ran his hands down his jeans - he could hardly breathe. Terror ran through him. He was a child again. Abused. Raped. Begging to be loved by whoever would. Raw and cut open. He couldn't move. He closed his eyes, his fingertips on his mouth. He felt sick. Didn't know why...he'd gotten weak since Statesville. She'd fucked him up._

"_Do you really not like me, big boy? Did I really freak you out? I want to stay with you." She sounded like a child. She sounded so hurt. She got close to him. Her hand on his back, her other hand on his face. He looked at her, looked into those empty dead eyes of hers. _

_Todd's eyes instantly watered, her words cutting right to the core of him, and he nodded, "Yes... of course... I just can't be with you. Please understand that... please don't... push me. Please... this isn't about you." _

_She pressed against him, spread open his shirt, and ran her tongue over his nipple. Lightly bit it which made him close his eyes briefly. She gazed up at him. "Would you like me more if... if I had something for you? This way you and I both can get what we need. We're usable... like you say." She whispered into his ear, "Let shit happen."_

"_What do you have... for me?" His voice had caught in his throat, need coming to life like nothing else, like bursts on the sun's skin. She didn't have to tell him what she had, he knew. She could take away the pain of tonight, last night... of all the nights. She could... the Princess could. He thought he should call Ed. But calling Ed meant he'd not be using. Calling Ed would be depriving his soul, his mind, of a little relief of sexual abuse hell._

_Violet's voice turned sing song... "I got something so sweet... for my baaaaby... "_

_Fuck Ed._

_Fffffuck._

* * *

><p>Pedro Moreno sat in the back room, drinking his rum, eating his favorite Cuban stew. When he turned and took one look at his number two man, he saw a very stoned Todd Manning walking like a drunk, looking like a drunk, shaming the restaurant... and MK. Pedro lit up with the fire of a thousand suns. He cursed hard, shot out of his chair, and grabbed Todd by the throat, slamming him up against the wall. He might have been 65 years old, but he was a fuckin' bull. A waitress ran out. Nobody else was around.<p>

"Where the fuck have you been, _maricón_? I told you to get sober! You promised me! We have business to attend to! We are dying out there and you're getting fucking high?! Look at you!" He slapped Todd hard, once, twice, Todd trying to block Pedro's hand. Trying to say something...

"Coming in here with your shirt hanging like a fuckin' _puto_... " He grabbed Todd's jeans by the waist, yanking at it, "Is your _penga _hanging out too? Huh? You can't even walk straight! I should kill you here! I should kill you, you goddamn bastard junkie!"

Todd did not see Pedro's iron fist coming at him, nor the next, nor still the next one. He was too fucked up to adequately protect himself. But even if he could, he wouldn't because he knew he was wrong by coming here so fucked up. But... but... he had to come because _Peter _had needed him. Peter... _Pedro_...

Blood blossomed out from inside of him and he slid down the wall to the floor. He turned to his side which only exposed his kidneys to Pedro's hard shoes. To avoid that, he turned onto his back which then exposed his belly. The rain of hell stopped only when Todd vomited on Pedro's pant leg, further enraging Pedro. He shoved himself away from the sick, eyes watering, the taste of puke and blood in his mouth, trying to get onto his hands and knees... he could hardly see except for the spotted black of semi-consciousness. He felt the concrete in the wall when Pedro gave him one last kick to his head. He heard yells and struggling, beyond the blood, but he was blessedly blow-free.

Soon, his face was getting slapped and he smiled because it was Rolon.

"You stupid asshole," Rolon growled. "Was it a needle? Jesus he's mad...Jesus you can get under his skin like nobody else..."

"Not, not, not a needle, no... I couldn't say no. It was right in front of me. I needed it, I needed it so bad... she had it and I couldn't say no. What did I miss? What's goin' on?"

"We lost three men yesterday... shot by the fucking Serranos. Our guys took three Serranos down... it's a fuckin' mess. Oh Jesus, Manning... you said you were headed to the doctor..."

Rolon held a hand to Todd's head which was pouring blood. "Damn, Manning..."

"I went to the hospital and met this girl... and... and... I couldn't say no after shit she told me... she's so broken... god, god..." He reached out and hugged his friend to him like a boxer, breathing hard, not being able to breathe, knowing he deserved what he got... "He really beat the shit outta me. Fuck... is he gonna kill me? Shit, gonna be sick again..." He turned and made it away from Rolon and when Rolon checked, he saw that Manning had just thrown up a whole shitload of blood.

"_Hijole_... fuckin'... shit... if you don't get clean, my man, he IS gonna kill your ass. Fuck me, if you even live that long."

Leya had run in now, bringing towels, bringing water like it was the resolution of life. She was still clouded in light, like an angel. Todd smiled at her... crazily thinking she'd be a good match for Jed. Trying to remember his cell number, trying to tell it to Rolon to give to Leya...

His hands tightened on Rolon's sleeves. He sucked down the water from the glass being held by the angel. She smiled, worried, and Rolon shook his head.

"Get out of here, _mamita... _don't get romantic ideas in your head. He's nothing but a piece of shit and if your father sees you helping him, it's YOUR ass that your father will be kicking."

"Don't chastise her... don't do that..."

"Shut up, Manning. Get up. You're going to that hospital. You HAVE to be locked up. We got too much at risk. You are never gonna get clean on your own, my friend."

"Where's Pedro? Let me explain... tell him I'm sorry... tell him for me."

"He's cooling off his jets... he cannot see you right now. How come I'm always saving your fuckin' ass? This is my karma for ever thinking of killing you off peaceful."

He dragged Todd to his feet and walked out the back to his car. Threw his friend in the back seat. Todd lay like a dog, breathless, in pain, confused and fucked-up in so many ways. He just wanted to go home, get in bed with Téa and the children... and live there. Live there for all eternity.

"I'm sorry for getting you deeper into this," Rolon said. "I was wrong. I was so wrong." Rolon picked up his phone and dialed Todd's home number. Told an answering machine, "Call Mr. Manning's doctor whoever he is. Tell him to meet me at the Llanview hospital emergency room. This is Rolon Lopez."

* * *

><p>It was strangely familiar being back in a psychiatric hospital. Strangely... homey.<p>

He pulled at the restraints and kinda liked that he was being made safe from himself, from heroin, from … Violet. He had woken up, tied up all over, in a whole lot of pain. Everything hurt. Everything was tied down. His ankles, his wrists, his waist. Like being in a fur-lined cocoon. He didn't have clothes on other than a sheet across his hips. He started to cry, but then didn't. He started to panic, but then didn't. He had lost consciousness somewhere between the Havana club and... the emergency room, and then once again. Until now.

The smell of Rolon's aftershave, leather, puke, blood... dope, and the gentle sway of Rolon's big car, had rocked him to blackness. The room was dimly lit. He turned his head and could see his blood-stained hair. He said, "Hey." Nobody answered. He yelled louder, "HEY!"

Said softer... "Hey."

He smelled something weird and then wasn't sure where he was. Heard someone say, "There he goes... just like the doc predicted. Look at the EEG."

"Awesome. Love when things work out like poetry."

A nurse smiled in his face, "Mr. Manning...can you tell me-"

He had a thought, a sudden thought that he was having a seizure. He wanted to tell someone, but instead he slipped into a sleep and dreamed dreams of Statesville, of Lucia bringing him water. She was saying, _"I overstepped my essential being. I am pure. I am yours. You are my everything."_

"_I am nothing, preciosa."_

"_You are everything."_

Then it was Violet staring down at him. _"I have the movies, _mi amor, mi hijo bastardo_. We'll get them, we'll get them all."_

When he woke up, he had a sense of time having gone by. He was still in a cocoon. His hair was wet, and he was suddenly afraid, finding himself shaking uncontrollably. He called out, "Hey! Hey! Hey..." He couldn't hear his voice, though, and he really screamed, but there was still only silence. He lifted his head a little and saw glass and dreamy people on the other side. He hoped it wasn't Lucia. He figured Téa was there, his father, and mother. Then he remembered his parents were dead so they couldn't be there. He looked around and saw machines around him. Heard blips.

The door finally opened and Tim Graham was there, looking serious. Todd tried calling to him and nothing came out. That's when he knew for sure that he'd had a seizure.

Tim smiled sadly, rested his big paw of a hand on Todd's forehead. "Hey, kiddo. I know you can hear me. We had a unique opportunity to get your seizure recorded. So we're hitting two birds with one stone... getting you clean, and figuring out why you've had such a serious increase in the seizures." His face crumpled in obvious empathy. Todd felt tears rolling down his face.

"It's okay, kiddo. Don't be afraid. You're safe, Téa is fine, glad you're here." Tim laughed a little sadly again, wiping the tears from Todd's face. "What happened, huh? You spent all of yesterday in therapy... you walked away... after HOURS of therapy for substance abuse... and you got really messed up. Wow. I guess I don't need to tell you... this outpatient idea of yours is a big-ass fail. You're gonna be here the rest of the month... behind locked doors, and I'm hoping you'll be here for at least six months. Oh... and George Strauss... he swung it so that by law you're here. You can't get out for thirty days no matter what you try. Welcome to Monday."

Todd jerked, and realized he was going to be sick. He turned his head and threw up. Blood and bile. Tim happened to have a little dish that caught the little bit he tossed. "Yeah," Tim said, "you've got some healing to do. Someone seriously kicked your ass."

"Oh," Tim said, like he suddenly remembered something, "Apparently, you've been doing so much heroin that you're physically addicted. Did you realize that? You told me you were doing just a little every so often. Well... blow me down. You lied about how much you been using. You're just a bowl of cherries and apple pie, my friend."

The fun thing about kicking dope was projectile vomiting. Good thing Tim ducked.

_Fffffuck._

* * *

><p>On the other side of the window, Téa sighed. Wiped her eyes of the insistent tears. She'd stood by and watched that horrible seizure, and watched as he threw up blood. She'd gone, and come back. She crossed her arms and hugged her purse. Shook her head.<p>

"He did try," she said. "He did spend the whole day with this Daena, the addiction doctor, and then in group therapy. Apparently he then went to his office, and was with some rock-and-roll pierced-looking thing... and got high with her and god only knows what else. She was in a state of... of _undress_." She sighed. Closed her eyes. Looked at Todd through the glass. "She overdosed in his office and he didn't realize it because he was too stoned to notice anything. Got into a cab and tried to meet with a friend at the Cuban restaurant that he likes... and the friend wasn't too thrilled with seeing Todd so very under the influence, and beat the living hell out of him... you know, I'm just glad he's here."

She bounced between soulful crying and seeing-red rage. The two extremes balanced each other out, leaving her quiet.

Bo Buchanan put his arm around Téa. "He's going to get the help he needs. Was he meeting with Pedro Moreno?"

She hesitated. Then saw no point in lying. "Yes, Moreno beat the hell out of him. He has internal bleeding, Bo. Broken ribs. Bruised kidneys. Another concussion."

"You want us to pick him up? That's a serious assault charge."

"No. Todd would never press charges anyway. With no other witnesses, you got nothing."

The door opened and both of them turned to Tim Graham. Bo walked away, leaving Téa to a little privacy.

"What's the prognosis," Téa asked, her lips pressed into a tight line.

Tim frowned, looked serious. "He'll recover. No serious injuries - just uncomfortable. The concussion... we'll see. Dr. Patel will be analyzing the results on his seizure, but I really just think it's because he hasn't been taking medication... I mean, coincidentally, he upped his heroin intake by leaps and bounds in this same year. Seizures go up, right along with the increased usage? It's a straight shot. We'll know more with the toxicology report. We'll get readings of how much medication he's been taking."

"He didn't use a needle though, right?"

"No... just snorted it, like he's been doing forever, but... he did a whole bunch. Like... a _really whole bunch_." He used the childlike words on purpose. "Téa, I'm not going to say anything you don't know... but his real prognosis isn't good. This kind of heroin use, is usually fatal. He knows it, too."

"He wants to die, Tim. He told me as much. Asked me to let him go." Those damn tears slipped out. She wiped her face.

"I know, but... I have hope. He wants the help. He asked me for it. More than once. I think he wants to turn this around. I think he will."

"Who's the girl he was with?" Téa called out to Bo who rejoined Téa and Tim. "The officer who was here said she wasn't actually a hooker or anything."

"Violet Jones. Doubt that's her real name. A library card was her only identification. Don't have a clue how old she is, but she's not underage or anything like that. She's kind of a ghost in the system, actually. No arrests, absolutely nothing." Bo looked at Téa, "Like Brandy. The intake report was disturbing - she has horrible scarring on her body made by a blade of some sort. And it didn't look self-inflicted." He turned to Tim, "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Nothing a little Narcan didn't fix. Scared the crap out of the cleaning crew at the Sun. She was very apologetic for causing any trouble, for creating any kind of mess with Todd."

"Really...but," Téa asked, "who is she?"

"I believe he met her in the group therapy," Tim offered. "It was an open session though, so there were no records."

Bo looked up, "I can do a little digging."

"Is she in trouble? Legally?"

"No, she and Manning used up any illegal drugs they had. His office was clean. Not that we were searching or anything - just enough to rule out foul play. I'll still do some digging on her."

Téa put her hand on Bo's, "No... just leave it for now. I'll ask Todd more about her when he's... better. If she's not a prostitute... then... this is something different." She turned to Tim. "Thank you. I hope things are going to change." She swallowed, tears moistening her eyes.

Tim grabbed her hands in his. "Hey... he's gonna be fine. He just couldn't do it on the outside. He just needed to prove it to himself."

"Can I say goodbye to him?"

Tim shook his head, "No. Go home. If he sees you, he'll want to follow you. And... he needs to rest. Not get agitated."

When Téa looked into the window that he couldn't quite see her through, she put her hands on it. She looked right into those light eyes, full of darkness. He seemed to look right into hers. She hated the glass that kept her from him. From touching him. She hated the addiction that kept him tied to that bed, and kept him from HER. She could see the sheen of sweat on his body as he began what would be a few ugly days of sweating off the drug. She could see him shivering with cold. Worse, she could see the damage that Pedro had done to him. It far exceeded the kennel's damage. She felt like spitting. She felt like ripping Pedro Moreno's throat out.

Rolon Lopez had met Téa at the entrance of the emergency room. She thought that Todd had overdosed, or had a seizure. When Téa saw the blood, when she saw the damage that the doctors were dealing with, she yelped, "What the hell?!"

Rolon said, "Manning doesn't fight Moreno. I've seen it before. It makes me very... angry. Nobody challenges Manning and wins. I have seen him fight men who far outweigh him, outclass him... out-_weapon_ him, and Manning will still win. He'll die fighting. Except when it comes to Pedro Moreno." Rolon turned to Téa... "Do you know why that is? I don't really understand it. Not from Manning... from low soldiers yeah, but..."

_Pedro is Spanish for Peter._

Téa shook her head. "No, I don't know. Maybe he just really believes in the hierarchy of your... _gang_."

Rolon shrugged, shook his head. "You said you had information from a Serrano that we could use against Moreno. I have things, too. I want out of MK. Are you still in on that plan?"

"Yes," she said. Smiled coolly. "We'll talk. Let's get him well first. He needs to be fully present before we do anything. Please... do business as usual. As best you can considering the gang war. Be safe. And thank you for bringing him here... and not... letting him die at Moreno's hands."

"I am on his side, Téa Delgado, _mamita rica._ I know... that I made a mistake. I'm on his side. And yours. And Rose's."

Téa said nothing, too enraged at MK and Moreno to respond. Rolon left her there to watch the doctors calling Todd's name to wake him up. Watched them shoot him up with Narcan to cut off the dope so they could get a better picture of how badly Pedro Moreno had injured him. Watched him... watched her husband fight the shocking reality of no drugs in his system. She turned away at that raw show of pain, at his boundless agony at suddenly not being high. She tried not to hear him cry like a child, saying over and over to someone he wasn't naming, as the orderly held onto him to keep him from jumping off the gurney, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I won't do it again, please... please...! God, GOD... it hurts so much... GOD!"

_Pedro... is Spanish for Peter. As in Peter... Manning. _

She knew now without doubt why Todd was fighting so hard to protect that sonofabitch, Pedro Moreno. Rolon had confirmed for her without knowing it that she was right. Todd didn't want to testify, not for his family, not for his life or freedom, but because he did not want to hurt Moreno. Todd had found a way to repair his broken relationship with his own deceased father: by re-creating another one with just as sick a man, just as dangerous. And just as corrupting. She was sure Todd wasn't even aware of it.

"Over my dead body, husband of mine, are you going to protect that bastard. Over my dead body."

**To be continued...**


	29. Chapter 29

Caged

Chapter 29

When they finally removed the restraints, Todd rolled over onto his side and pulled up the linens to cover himself. Curled up like a pill bug and eagerly swam back into the darkness to sleep off the seizure and the pain from Pedro Moreno's vicious attack. Muscles, ribs, his head, his insides screamed in agony. His dignity, too. Everything made him intensely short-tempered so when he woke, the staff treated him gently. Soft voices, no touching, all business. Worked for him. He suspected, too, that maybe Tim was right. That he had the added joy of a mild heroin withdrawal - he'd been thinking heroin hangover, but... maybe not. Maybe the nausea, the fever-like feelings... were pure dependence.

_Just... fuckin' beautiful._

Whatever the root cause of his misery, Pedro had certainly given him the hard side of his boot, knocking Todd into the wall like a goddamn soccer ball. That had never happened before - he'd irritated Pedro at times to be sure, but nothing like that night. He wished he could talk to the guy. He felt... out of control, out of touch... scared as hell for Tea, the family, himself. He bit his nails to the pink. He hoped Rolon had put guards on Tea, but he wasn't sure who he wanted guarding her. The Posse? MK? If Pedro wanted to take shit out on Todd's family... who would those guards listen to? Todd's orders... or Pedro's? Thought maybe it was time to hire independents who'd be loyal only to Todd.

He quelled the rising panic. Breathed. Counted.

In the afternoon, after a plain lunch in his room, he took a shower, got dressed into some fresh pajama-like bottoms, a plain white tee, and fancy new slippers. Delicate movements, babying his wounds. He lay again on the bed, dreaming about painkillers stronger than Tylenol, anxious as hell, waiting for... god-knows-what. He had no idea what time it was, guessing three o'clock based on the light outside. He grew increasingly tense with every passing minute. He eased up with a pained grunt and stood at the window. Watched the outside. Light eyes, seeing only inwardly.

He remembered these rooms, being so out of it... the terror of those days, after he'd _remembered everything_. Chewed his nails to the pink then too, self-injuring over and over to get back to reality. He'd been lost in the past, buried by physical memories he could not control. His chest tightened suddenly, bowels cramped, images popping in his head that led straight to well-remembered Violet.

_I like to watch movies._

Todd huffed, sweat prickling at his neck, running a hand through his hair. Went back to watching people outside, looking at other patients entertain themselves in the afternoon sun. He wondered what everyone was doing, everyone who mattered. Wished like hell he was someone else. He pressed his forehead against the glass. He'd so fucked things up. Again. He wanted to go home, but understood he couldn't.

_Movies of Darryl with ten-year old Violet. Holy motherfuckin' shit. _

He really, really needed to talk to Ty Jerome. Was any of that even true? Darryl? The same Darryl? That got him real goddamn anxious. Maybe Violet bullshitted the whole thing... who the fuck was she?

_You want to fuck me, you want to do all kinds of shit to me. You may not like kids, but you just as sick._

He pressed a hand to his crotch, scared someone would cut his cock off. With their teeth. Old fear stopped his memories cold in their tracks. Damn bowels. Damn heroin. How it would lift him up far far away. He pressed his cheek against the cool glass, closing his eyes at the feel of it. Dragged his gaze back to the outside. The people ran back and forth, a football passed between them. Go long, catch the ball, he thought. Nice. His fingers itched to grab the pigskin, to feel the thump of the catch. His lungs ached for a breathless run into the endzone. Before long, Tim walked in, and by the expression on his Superman face, Todd figured he must have looked a pathetic sight. He quickly resumed his silent watch of Llanview citizens on the brownish-green. Let go of his cock.

"Feeling better?" Tim asked.

"Not really, no... I need my cell. Can I get that?" He sounded edgy, irritable.

"At the end of the month."

Todd turned at that, snapped, "Know what? I need to know what's happening. I get that I'm here in lock-down, what the fuck ever, but I can't be outta touch. Understand? I'm not as crazy as others on this floor - I'm not talking to myself, or seeing things... or doing any other kinda shit. So get me my fuckin' phone!"

"You can have approved visitors - I'll set up whoever you need to meet with. Evenings only. For an hour. You need serious separation, kiddo. I wanted to get you into Granite-"

"You know that this thirty-day lock-up is bullshit, right? That any lock-up is bullshit."

"Explain how it's bullshit."

"You know I can get my lawyer here in fifteen minutes, and all this goes away."

Tim paused, then said, "Do you _want_ to get out, Todd?"

Turning hard back to the window, he cursed under his breath. He needed the cage. Resumed that serious watch. Said softly, "No."

"What happened on Sunday? Why didn't you call your sponsor?"

Todd watched the ball fly into the trees and the players struggle to find it. From the window, he could see it had nestled into a hard shrub. "Right there... so fuckin' blind."

Tim waited in the silence.

Why had he not called his sponsor? He worked on putting himself back into his office, trying to recreate the "why." After some moments Todd said, "I don't know... I lost my mind... the only thing I wanted was the goddamn heroin in front of me." He paused. Sighed. Closed his eyes briefly. Said raggedly, "I couldn't stop myself, nothing could stop me. My daughter crying in front of me, begging, couldn't have stopped me."

There was no mention of his partner-in-crime. Tim cleared his throat, nodded. Said, "Because of Violet?"

Todd's eyes glazed over, Tim could see it. They moved from the people on the grass, to empty space. He licked his lips, swallowed visibly. Shook his head and blinked fast, saying in a hushed tone, "Yeah. Violet. Fucked-up Violet. Who spread her diseased brain to me. I had no intention of screwing things up that bad. Please believe me."

The doctor took in Todd's distress and knew he meant what he said. This Violet had definitely affected him. He could see the disassociation at the mere mention of her name. Hm. He decided to veer in another direction for the moment.

"Who is Pedro Moreno?"

Todd shrugged, ran a hand through his hair, then ran that same hand down his face. He got pulled back into reality, but Pedro exhausted him. _This _name visibly weighed on him, a boulder having to be dragged up a mountain.

"I work for him."

Tim got a confused look on his face and Todd sighed. He laid out the truth. The words felt strange on his lips. "I... uh... I work for Pedro Moreno, I do investigative kind of work. He's the head of a Cuban... uh... organization. We're fairly... tight."

"What kind of organization?"

"Some people think of the Mambo Kings as a gang. I got _inducted_ in Statesville."

Silence told Todd a little of what Tim might have thought at the news. He could not see Tim's momentarily widened eyes. But like a typical mental health worker, the doctor stepped back and said, "I've heard of them. What do you think they are, if not a gang?"

"_Family_." He sounded bitter. Rubbing his mouth, his lip still swollen from Pedro's assault on him.

"_Family? _That's pretty heavy. Why didn't you tell me about this before? Three years out... we've talked... you've kept it to yourself."

"Wasn't important."

"Is it now?"

A sad expression broke out on Todd's face, and he nodded. "I'm set to testify against Moreno, and I don't want to." He looked up, "I don't want to ruin the kids' lives, Tea's life... we'll have to go into hiding, and I don't want to."

"Hm. You don't want to get rid of Moreno... because of your real family."

"Right."

"How did you get involved with them? Are you an actual member? Was your induction... voluntary?"

"Too long a story, and yes, it was voluntary... mostly... and... yes. I'm in the gang for fuckin' real, and..." He paused... shook away the words he wanted to say. He eyed Tim, body and face heavy with a huge story he wasn't telling.

Tim shook his head, a light going off in his head, "King snake tattoo? As in _Mambo King _Snakes. Okay." Tim quieted, crossed his arms, the file pressed against his chest. Eying his patient. The silence got to Todd. He demanded judgement. Needed it. He took off his shirt, achingly. Saw Tim wince at the bruising.

"Can you see this?" He pointed to the "MK" letters built into the spider and the snake, fingertips running the revealing lines. "That's my color." He made the MK signs with his fingers... "MK for fuckin' life." Smiled darkly. Then didn't.

Tim couldn't cover his sadness, "I'm sorry, kiddo... I wish you'd told me. You said they were... family. Is that true or are you being facetious?"

"They saved my life in prison, and helped me protect the kids." The shirt went back on, Todd moving slowly, carefully. "I owe them. Do you know the meaning of that? Owing?"

"Yes, I have an idea. These kids - the broken, damaged kids. We've talked about them. I didn't know you had help."

"Yeah, a little, kinda on the down-low. Makes it hard to testify. I am..." He smiled, flashing more bitterness than anything else. "I am so very beholden to the _Mambo Kings._"

Tim studied Todd some moments, wrote some tidbits into the file. Testifying... he needed more information on that. But this wasn't the time. Other questions needed answering. What are these people to him? _Family. _His patient's childhood family... had been hellish. Peter Manning had violated all bonds of family in the worst ways possible. Tim knew that Pedro was Peter in Spanish. Hm. Pedro of the Mambo Kings had given Todd quite a beating and word was, Todd did not fight back. No defensive wounds. Tea had told Tim who'd beaten him. Pedro Moreno... was violating bonds of family.

When Tim looked back up, his eyes met Todd's, a childlike quality to his gaze. "Hey, hey, doc, don't write anything about me testifying in that file o'yours."

"No, never, don't worry." Tim returned that gentle look, "Did you get at least one good shot in, kiddo, in this fight with Pedro Moreno?"

Todd shook his head, a barely perceptible motion, "No."

Tim quieted a moment, a hard line in between his brows. "Pedro assaulted you and... you didn't fight back? He broke two ribs, you had internal bleeding, he gave you a mild concussion. Why didn't you fight him?"

Todd's features quirked into an expression of perplexity. He shrugged. "I... I work for him... I can't..."

"A sixty-five-year-old man stood over you and kicked the hell out of you... and you... YOU, Todd Manning... did nothing. Why?"

"I COULDN'T!"

"Since when don't you defend yourself against a man named PETER?"

The words hit Todd hard. He fired a dark, dark look at Tim. His hands had tightened into fists, his breaths came fast. He stepped away from the window, seeming like he was going to fight now... he gritted his teeth and said, "The hell are you saying, DOC?"

"I'm putting the facts in front of you. You allowed a man to assault you. You had next to NO defensive wounds. Why? You called MK 'family.' That makes PETER... Pedro... your what? Father?"

"Shut up! SHUT UP!"

"If you testify, you'll end MK's presence in this region, you'd be free. But you're refusing... and now you let him beat you?"

Todd blinked. Kept his gaze on Tim. "I was high... I wasn't supposed to be. He told me to get sober and I didn't. I brought shame onto MK by walking into the Havana restaurant so very fucked up." His last words were from memory. Words from Pedro himself. _Peter._ He felt sick.

"So you deserved to get beaten."

"I wasn't supposed to be high." He plopped onto his bed. The fight gone. He sat, dejected. "I wasn't supposed to be high."

"And you don't want to testify against such a man."

"He saved my life."

"Did he?"

Oh there was way more here than he wanted to see. Todd closed his eyes. Rubbed his face. Scratched his head. Breathed to quell the rising sick.

Tim asked, "Are you okay?"

"No... I got the shakes and I'm gonna puke." He breathed through parted lips, his eyes staying closed. He felt the blood rushing away from his head and bent against the pillow. Fought the sick. Cold sweat broke out all over his body. Tim went into the bathroom and wet a washcloth. Placed it on Todd's forehead. Todd grabbed it and pressed his face into the cool cloth. The nausea passed after a bit and he sighed with relief.

"I'm scared, and I don't even know what I'm scared of. I need to know what's happening outside."

"Might be withdrawals. Might be your new meds. Or you're just scared shitless, kiddo, from all you're dealing with. Let's go for a walk. Let's talk about your schedule this upcoming week. It's going to be intense. You'll be starting in an hour. Your next one-on-one with Daena, the addiction specialist."

Todd watched Tim get up, pull his Blackberry out and tap some buttons. Scrolled through stuff. That's what he loved about his Superman. Todd could say anything and Tim never flinched, never openly judged, just... listened and worked through shit. "Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"I really want to get off heroin."

"I know you do."

He repetitively smoothed the cotton pj's pant legs, slow deliberate moves. He kept his gaze down. "On Sunday, I had no intention of jumping down that rabbit hole. I just did. And it was like watching a fuckin' horror movie. The whole night... I watched like I was far, far away. I could not stop what was happening, even though in my head I wanted to. Shit happened and I couldn't control it. It was like my sister, like having DID or something."

Tim nodded, "You disassociated. In a very serious way." He paused. "Do you want to talk about Violet?"

Todd chewed on his nails. Ran a hand through his hair. Went back to biting and looking out the window across the room. Shrugged. "Where is she?" He asked without looking at the doctor. He jiggled his foot that hung off the bed, the motion reverberating throughout his body. Buried his face into the wet washcloth.

"She left the emergency room when she was straight. Didn't want to stay. Don't know much more than that." Tim sighed, studied Todd some moments more. Gauging how he'd manage truthful information about Violet. Tim had an idea that this girl had shared something of what happened to her - if there was anything that still might cause Todd to disassociate, it was being exposed to sexual abuse. "You know, the damage on Violet's body upset our nursing staff when she was brought in. Very old damage that could only have happened when she was a child. Someone tortured her."

Todd hardly moved, hardly breathed, and Tim watched him carefully. Todd rubbed his face hard, pressing his hands against his eyes. Hard, hard. Groaned loudly. Getting into the present. Forcing himself out of that house of horror. He tossed the washcloth across the room to the bathroom. Landed on the floor. Todd's eyes hardened, the muscles in his face tightened. He shut down hard on Violet and Tim knew they had some work to do. Painful work. Yes, she'd been a fast train to getting high.

"I gotta get in touch with her or at least her brother."

"You know the brother?" Tim settled back.

"Yeah... he was part of my crew in Statesville... and it's fuckin' critical that I talk to him. Like now."

"Want to tell me why?"

"No."

The moment passed - his patient was not going to tell more about what happened on Sunday. He'd cut off the flow and Tim could see it in on the man's worn face. Pedro Moreno was difficult enough and they barely touched the surface on that. Violet? Not today.

"Okay, we'll work it out. I promise. Now, let's go for a walk. You up for that? Let me tell you about what comes next..." Tim got close to Todd, putting a hand on his shoulder. Assured him, "You sound very different than you did before Statesville, or even in Statesville. This will work. Ok?"

Todd's eyes watered, "It has to. I meant what I said the other day - this is going to kill me."

"Yeah, at this rate, without help, you're right. But... you're here, and it's difficult to leave no matter what you say. I'm hopeful, kiddo."

* * *

><p>Tea felt immensely <em>quieted<em> at Todd's being locked away at Llanview Psych. When she woke that first Tuesday morning, she breathed like she hadn't breathed in weeks. He was safe. He couldn't access drugs or guns or... anything else that put everyone at risk. She got that this made no sense - things were more dangerous now than they'd been... ever. People were out to kill MK leaders, and now Tea knew... the Delgado-Mannings were on the list of MK leaders.

And yet... the war seemed to have abated. There seemed to be an unspoken truce. It struck Tea as the quiet before the storm.

In the face of such awfulness, by the second Tuesday she had eased into Todd's absence like easing into a warm bath. The slide felt familiar, comfortable... _relieving_. Being without him wasn't that hard. Heather had the children, Tea had her work, and R.J. kept his usual watch on Tea. Life was like when Todd was at Statesville, only without the constant worry that something bad might happen. She didn't know why she felt so sure he'd stick out being in lock-up. Maybe because it WAS like prison. Tim had taken her for a quick tour - that floor was locked down tight. Several doors to pass... all with codes and keys. He never escaped Statesville, so he probably wouldn't escape the locked floor of Llanview Psych.

_I can breathe._

Week two brought court time, motion work, meetings with incarcerated clients. Week three opened up with a good report from Tim on Todd's progress. On that third Tuesday, she walked confidently in a plum silk pantsuit from the courthouse to her office, her boots giving her needed height and the sound of an ass-kicker as the leather hit the concrete sidewalk. Her briefcase was at her side, its long strap slung over her shoulder. Her thoughts grabbed onto technicalities of her legal work like life-saving rafts in an ocean.

Since Todd had gone into rehab, Tea did keep a strong eye out for her surroundings, and for the hundredth time it seemed, she noticed a man following her. This time she wasn't going to let it go. He was husky, tall, dark hair, smooth pretty face for such a big guy. He wore very common clothes, jeans, a canvas zipped-up jacket. Rubber-soled shoes meant for quick movement. Walked across the street at the same pace, only a few feet behind her. Cars passed by and cut off her view of him. But then there he was. She stopped and looked into the window of a shoe store. In the reflection, she saw he stopped, too.

She walked another block, stopped... and he did too. Finally, she crossed the street, but then headed into an alley... walked slowly through the trash, back up against the front side of the Dumpster. Waited a few moments and pulled out a sleek pistol from her holster - pointed it right at her follower when he appeared, getting him to gasp a little and back up. She walked, pointing the gun at him. She'd gone into the alley so she wouldn't draw attention to the fact that she was going to shoot his ass.

"Who are you and why are you following me?!"

He suddenly smiled, his hands up in the air, "Mrs. Manning... I'm protecting _you._" He had a slight accent.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Alvaro..."

"Who do you work for?"

"Rolon Lopez. I work for him... but he just pays the bill. I work for YOU. Me... and that guy, too." He directed Tea to another man, similarly big, entering the alley. He was leaning against the brick wall now, lighting up a cigarette. He nodded. "That's Fernando. We are here... for you."

"Are you members of MK?"

He nodded, shrugged, agreed.

"Are there others with my children?"

He nodded, "Yes."

"How long have you been 'working for me'?"

"I just started, but... there have been others."

"And how do I know you're who you say you are?"

"Well," he chuckled. "Ask Rolon. I got my driver's license - you want to see that?"

She bobbed her head, "Please - slowly." She moved closer, close enough to read the name. But not so close that she could tell a fake. She had to talk to Rolon now. To be sure. "Ok," she said, "Just keep your distance. I'm not scared of using this thing. Now go away." He turned...walked away. Before he exited the alley, Alvaro said, "But, _mamita, _will you hit what you're aiming at?"

She smiled tightly, the stretch fading fast, "Oh _hell_ yes." She breathed hard, reciting Rolon's cell phone number in her head before finally heading to her office. She dialed as she walked and got confirmation. She told him, "Fire them. I can take of myself. If I see them, I will kill them."

"Tea...your husband-"

"Hell with my husband. FIRE THEM. If I see them, I will SHOOT. _Entiendes?_"

"Shit. Fine, fine. He's going to be angry."

"I don't care."

In fact, she definitely could take care of herself and definitely hit her target. While Todd had been locked away in prison, Tea had learned to shoot. R.J. had patiently worked with her, got her damn good. Todd had no idea how well she knew weapons, how they worked, how to use them - when she laid her eyes on the silver beast that Todd had taken off the Serrano, she recognized a whole lot of firepower in that monster of a pistol. She also knew it was responsible for a few killings, THE killings that had been happening on the streets. She'd gotten that information from files Bo had shared on the murders. The idea that Todd had it in his hands was positively terrifying. She'd taken care of it. Made it disappear so that Todd wouldn't ever be caught even near that thing.

By the time she got to her office, the men were gone. Good.

When she sat at her desk and started typing up orders from the court, her phone lit up. "Tea Delgado here," she said, an eye still on the computer, a little irritated at the interruption.

"Mrs. Manning? This is Ty Jerome."

She paused, focusing for real now on the phone. "Hey, how are you?"

"Can you come out to talk today?"

"Why, what's up?"

"Can't talk on the phone. Please? I've sat on this thing way too long."

Tea chewed on the idea a moment. Then said, "I'm on my way."

"Thank you."

Tea made the arrangements for the kids. Called her on-call paralegal, left instructions on the orders that needed to get to the court. Gloria knew her business and had a key to the office. All set. For God knows what.

* * *

><p>The drive felt like a break, but the pit in her stomach reminded her that this was anything but. She drove in circles until she believed she truly wasn't being followed. She drove with the window down, loving the cool breeze against her face, on her sleeve, whipping her hair. She understood why Ty would choose to stay out of the city. The kennel looked the same, of course, and she heard the barking dogs as soon as she opened the car door.<p>

Ty came out, looking worried. Other members of the crew followed him. Smithy, Tomas, Joe. They deceived the world. They seemed so... harmless. Tea knew better. Ty dressed like he always did, wrecked jeans, boots, and a simple black tee. Tea's eyes always wandered to the scar that cut across his head. His short black hair did not grow along that line. "We got information... that Todd will want."

Tea kept trained on Ty. "What?"

"Come in." They all went into his house. Front door. The place was darkened. Beer cans lay on the coffee table. Empty paper plates tossed about. A laptop on the table played a bouncing ball screensaver. Ty shut the door. He had a large manila envelope in his hands, and looked down at it. Pressed it with his fingers. "I have a sister. Her name is Violet. She's... she's real sick in the head." Ty laughed a little, embarrassed. The others sat on the couch. Tea looked at their faces - today, they were haunted. Soulless eyes, she thought. Shit.

She took the envelope from his hands, and sat on a ratty but comfy chair. She breathed. _Violet? The Violet? _She urged Ty to sit. He did after a moment or two.

"How's Todd," he asked.

"He's fine. He's safe. He can't get out for thirty days. Two more weeks to go. Hope it sticks."

"Have you seen him?"

She paused, shook her head, no. "You did your best, you know? We _all _wanted to believe he'd just stay put."

Ty sighed, "Are you angry at us? He was... crazy to get out. He took my shotgun."

Joe sighed, "My fault. I put it an easy place."

Tea shook her head, "Don't. Don't blame yourself, please... none of you could have stopped him. Besides, he's in a way better place right now." Tea looked at each of the men. Eyed the envelope in her hands. Looked back up at Ty who swallowed. Nodded. He licked his lips.

"Talk to me," she said.

"That's from my sister. It scares the shit out of me. I've had it here for two weeks. I thought maybe Todd would call me but..."

"What is it?"

"Go ahead, open it."

She eyed him before opening it. She saw what looked to be a VHS tape. And a grainy color photograph - a small one. She pulled out the picture. Looked like someone took a picture of a television screen. Ty turned away. Got up. Went into the kitchen. The other two watched him nervously.

The photo wasn't grainy enough. "Jesus CHRIST," she said. "Is this..."

Smithy spoke up, "Sure looks like him."

"Darryl Warren...," she murmured. "Who's the girl?"

Ty returned with a Coke can in his hand. Tossed one to Smithy. "Violet, my sister. She was ten."

"God... oh my god," she said under her breath, a hand covering her lips. "She was with Todd... that night."

"Yeah, and I can't have that shit - it's like child porn? Right? If I have it... I can go to jail. I'm giving it to you."

"Is this tape... a _movie_?"

"Yeah. He filmed himself with her. I watched two minutes and had to shut the thing off. This is an original. He made copies. I think he sold them."

"Where's your sister now?"

There was a quiet that fell over the room. Someone made everyone turn, Tea following their gaze. She found herself looking at a smallish dark-haired woman in tight jeans, an old t-shirt, and tall black Converse shoes. Her eyes were large and dark... and empty. Her pixie face was tight with seriousness. She cracked a smile, then didn't. She couldn't be more than ninety pounds. Her face showed her to be in her early twenties, but... she seemed much older than that. Ty resembled her.

He cleared his throat. "Tea, this is Violet."

"That's my movie," she said. "You gonna take it from me?"

"If you'll let me."

Tea looked down at the picture in her hand. Damning. The two, perp and victim, looked at the camera, a young Darryl... in the midst of a child rape. Just the thing Todd wanted. This would shut Darryl down. She wondered if Violet had shared this with Todd... but his office had nothing like this there. His office had been clean. He'd be in jail had they found this. Tim hadn't mentioned anything about this.

_Pedro Moreno would be safe. Todd wouldn't have to testify._

"Who else knows?" Tea asked.

"Just us."

Too late. The cat's out of the bag. "Does Todd know about this?" She looked at Violet.

"Yeah," she said. "He was a little... upset. I got him off his promises."

"It was my fault," Ty said.

"What do you mean?" Tea had to tear herself away from Violet.

He told her the story while Violet lit up a cigarette, leaning against the doorjamb. He talked about how he called Violet. That she'd come all the way to his house. Showed him the movie. He took a picture so Todd wouldn't have to watch the movie to see who it was ..._ holy motherfuckin' shit._ They were going to go together to see Todd. But she disappeared when they stopped at a cafe. Violet got to him somehow.

"How did you find him?" Tea asked. They all turned to Violet.

Shrugging, she said, "I got my ways." She looked at everybody. That wasn't satisfactory. She rolled her eyes. "I bribed the guard at his office building. Gave him five minutes of heaven."

"Shit, Vi," Ty groaned.

"Don't you judge me."

Tea said, "Doesn't matter. Can you all leave the room? All of you. Let me look at the tape." Ty took it from her. Stuck it into the VCR.

Violet sat. "I want to watch. I may never see it again. And I...I like it."

Tea swallowed hard, closed her eyes. She knew that this girl would have hit Todd hard, sucker-punched him. No wonder he imploded. She was far, far worse than Brandy. Jesus. She did not ever want to know what happened that Sunday in Todd's office. The girl terrified Tea and she didn't really know why.

She hit the play button. Watched Darryl looking right at the camera, announcing a dark story to follow. "Welcome to Good Times, Inc." He chuckled and stepped out of the camera's view, revealing a child on the bed. What came after was harsh. Tea glanced at a slightly grinning Violet. Biting her lip. She was visibly excited.

Tea watched with her heart in her throat. Forced herself to look at the images. Shut it off when she'd had enough. Violet breathed out and laughed. "Oh damn... you quit just when it was getting good."

"God..." Tea shook her head, recovering from the short view of the film. The images confirmed well enough that she was looking at Darryl Warren, a real sonofabitch. She sat quietly, staring at the deadened television. Picked up her cell.

"George, I have something you need to see. I'll be at your office in two hours."

Pedro Moreno was still going to go down... but goddamnit... it wasn't going to be Todd testifying against him. There'd be another way. She buried her face in her hands. Jesus... she had to see Todd now. But here's the thing. Violet was necessary.

"Will you testify against Darryl?" Tea asked, her voice hard.

"You want me in court to say that was me in the video, and that was a guy who called himself Darryl?"

"Yes, and I'll need you to talk about the tape. Where you got it, how long you've had it... and whether there are any copies. Are there... copies?"

"Yeah... Darryl made some. I took this one. From his collection."

"Will you stay here? Please?"

"Will you pay me?"

"I'll do what I can. Anything you need. You too, Ty. Anything. Just stay put. Stay safe."

Ty nodded, Violet rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Fuck all of you."

"Violet, I'll need you. Can you promise me to stay put, please? This is so important. What Darryl did was very wrong. We have to stop him."

She shrugged, "I ain't no police. Why do I care?"

Tea eyed the girl. "He might have hurt others."

She shrugged again. Sucked in her cigarette.

"You know what... do it because it's going to cause untold chaos." Tea looked into the distance... "You have no idea the hell this will create. But we'll need to verify the tape."

Violet took her cigarette and put it out on her wrist, twitching at the hurt. She then smiled, "A little trick I learned." She paused... studying the dead cigarette. Tea wondered if the teacher of that trick was Todd.

The girl sighed. "Chaos?"

"Yes."

"I guess so. I'll try to stay."

"Thank you." Tea stood up, grabbed her things. Held that manila envelope, tape sitting inside oh-so-innocuously. "Okay, I'll be in touch. Thank you again."

Violet got up, walked close to Tea. "I'm real sorry I _got your husband off..._ his promises." She smiled bearing that disturbing dark look on her face. "He's damn shy... but he got better with the dope. When shit happens with him..." She laughed. "Whooo..._shit...happens."_

Ty growled, "Shut the fuck up, Vi."

Smithy Jackson came into the room, interrupting the exchange. "Can I hitch a ride?"

Tea bit her lip, looking at that beautiful ruined face, grateful Violet had crawled back under whatever rock she'd come from. Jackson was Tea's same height. She knew things about him. She agreed. "Of course." She wanted to get the hell away from Violet. That woman was rotten to the core and Tea was having dark thoughts about her.

Jackson looked at Tea, pulling her away from Violet. "Can I see him?"

"No," Tea said. "He's in lock-down. Very limited visitors."

They said their goodbyes, Tea looking into each man's face and seeing that same fear. Except for Joe. He had a lightness that would never leave him - he'd been protected. He'd been safe from the evil in the world.

She climbed into the car and so did Jackson, as Todd called him. They were quiet... driving with the horrible tape in the back seat. Tea kept an eye for police. She pulled over and shoved the thing into the glove compartment where a cop's eyes couldn't reach without probable cause. She drove carefully. Jazz played on the radio. She eyed Jackson as he watched out the window. He had delicate hands tightened into loose fists.

Without warning, she asked, like she was asking about the weather, "Do you love him?"

He coughed and chuckled, "No."

"But you... you were _with him_ in prison, right?"

He stared out the window, the quietest, most uncomfortable laugh in his throat. Said quietly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I want to know my husband."

"No, you don't."

"Why do you say that?"

"Cause all wives and girlfriends say that but the truth is they don't."

"I do. I'm different."

"No, you're not."

Tea quieted, continuing the drive in silence. Jackson had all but confirmed what she already knew, what Todd had implied to her.

"Were there others? Other than you?"

"Mrs. Manning-"

"Please. I want to understand him. He says he loves me, his family... and yet, here we are. He's in psych and I have child pornography in my car."

"It's fucked up." After a while in silence again, Jackson turned to her. "Have you ever wanted water so bad? Like you were thirsty... thirsty for just plain cold water... water that would cool your mouth and throat... and like you were dry, dry from your lips down to your toes? And you thought that maybe, maybe you'd fucking die if you didn't get that one drink of water?"

Tea turned to him for a moment, shrugged slightly.

"Well... imagine you're on your last moments... and instead of water, someone hands you piss. You either drink the piss or die. What would you do?"

"Jackson..."

"Yeah, me and whoever else offered... we were piss."

"Jesus..."

"I don't hate him, I understood it. I was thirsty too." He smiled... sadly. "Only... I like piss."

Tea sighed and tears rolled down her face. "Jackson, you are not piss."

"I know, I know, I'm a beautiful human being... that's not my point. He needed to feel alive. I was there to help him, and he let me feel weirdly needed in a world where I really _was_ nothing. He's kind to me, been kind to me. I have a life now, one that I didn't have before. When I got out, I had nowhere to go and he gave me a place."

"Jackson... is he..." She couldn't quite finish. Wasn't even sure what she was going to ask.

"He's not thirsty anymore. He's swimming in fresh water. All the water he wants. He'll never have use of piss...this I know."

She reached out and held Jackson's hand. "Are you okay?"

He turned to her, looked at her with a wide open heart that played out on his dark eyes. "Are _you_ okay?"

The words surprised her and a sudden raw sob broke through, shocking her system. She pressed the brakes and had to pull over, finding herself in a storm of horrified crying. "That girl," she kept saying. "That girl."

When Tea finally regained control, Jackson said, "Welcome to the dark side of child abuse."

"She's so ugly," Tea said quietly. "Why do I feel like she abused... Todd? That's ridiculous. She's ninety pounds... he could kill her with one look. She was raped for god's sake... repeatedly. She was a victim! I saw it with my own eyes!"

Jackson huffed, shook his head. He was far too knowing. Said, "You feel like that 'cause she probably did abuse him. Abusers, victims... they sometimes merge." They were quiet a while, Jackson adding in a soft voice, "Todd is kind of both." He glanced at Tea...maybe she heard him, maybe not. Tea stared out the window.

"Mrs. Manning, she's a pedophile. She likes what she sees on that tape. It happens, you know."

"I'm sick to my stomach." She didn't explain over what exactly.

"She's ain't gonna work on a witness stand, Ms. Lawyer Lady."

"God, I know. Well, this will never get to any trial or hearing. Darryl's going to disappear once he sees what we have." Tea leaned back against the headrest, wiping her face. Recovering. She turned to Jackson. Smiled sadly. "I'm sorry... I was trying to ask you if YOU were okay?"

He smiled back at her, "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be better when Darryl is finished. I kinda suspect there's more to this movie thing than just the one, or just a couple of copies."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe one movie might lead to a whole bunch of movies? And maybe a whole bunch of buyers."

"A pornography ring."

"Yeah. This is bigger than just Darryl."

"Okay... okay... Jesus. let's get the hell out of here."

Jackson looked at her as they drove. "He does love you, you know. You were something untouchable in there. Hid you like something precious. Trust that. For sure."

"It's kind of hard sometimes. At every turn, he challenges my belief in him." She turned to Jackson a second or two, returning her gaze to the road, "Did he feel more alive... after? After you were with him?"

"I don't know. Like I said a long time ago - he couldn't seem to keep any kind of goodness for any length of time. Whatever he got from me...never lasted beyond his high. I thought he was different now, but... I don't know."

When she left him at his apartment, he smiled at her. Said... "He's been real cool with me. I don't know what I'd be doing today if it wasn't for him. I mean that, for real."

Tea breathed in... and left Jackson behind, looking so lonely as he walked into his modest apartment building. She picked up her cell. Dialed Rolon.

"Hey, _Mamita_. You want those guards again?"

"No, I want a meeting with you. I want to know how to finish off Pedro Moreno. Do you understand me? You owe me, you owe Todd, and you owe Leticia."

"We're going against your husband, you know."

"No...he's out of commission. I'm making decisions for him now. Now tell me... you got something up your sleeve?"

"Do you?"

"Yes. I'm ready to share if you are."

"Okay. I'll see you at your office, _abogada._ At 8:00 tonight."

After seeing George and getting the tape copied and into a safe, Tea walked into Llanview Psyche. Tim met her. Third week. It was time. Tim walked with Tea down the hall towards the doors of the locked floor. He stopped her, "He's had a visitor this week."

"Who?"

"Pedro Moreno. He's paying the bill."

"Shit."

"Yeah..."

"How is he?"

"He's doing well. Saying all the right things. Confessing, opening up, participating. Too good, maybe. I haven't been able to get through to him about Violet."

"I met her."

Tim's eyes opened up, "You did."

"She's bad off. Worse than Brandy ever was. Abused... yes, but she turned black...very, very black. Tim, she's a sexual predator. I have something with me. I want your approval. You might need to deal with the fallout."

"What is it?"

"Picture of a child rape. Implicates a federal officer. I'm confirming information Todd wanted badly."

Tim nodded, sighed. "I'll be here. Maybe it will get him to talk to me, finally. Go ahead. We'll be ready for anything."

Tea looked at the doors... and went on in. Straight ahead, she saw him.

Leaning on the nurse's station counter, he stood negotiating with an older nurse who was smiling at his being charming. She had her arms crossed and was shaking her head, and he was chuckling, pleading for something. He said, "Come on... I'll make it worth your while...I'm really really rich..." The older nurse laughed, motherliness shining through.

His hair was clean and smooth, hanging down. His face seemed a bit younger. Tea knew this look, the freshly-clean-of-heroin look. He wore his favorite jeans and tennies and a plum-knit shirt that matched Tea's suit. The nurse handed him a chocolate bar and he grinned, "Yes..."

"I'm all out, Mr. Manning!"

He chuckled and turned, and when he saw Tea the satisfied smile already in place broadened, ... a beautiful, whole-being smile that reached his softened hazel eyes. And Tea... she kind of gasped at the pure joy on his face. It cut right through to her core. He walked to her, his slight limp always revealing the brokenness inside of him.

Damn. She was going to blow his peacefulness to Kingdom Come. Tim walked right behind her, whispered, "He might surprise you."

"And he might not."

"Delgado," Todd said, "... god... you're beautiful."

"Manning...So are you."

Damn.

To be continued...


	30. Chapter 30

Caged

Chapter 30

The locked wing of the Llanview County Hospital hadn't changed much since Tea had last visited. The place was just as stark and sad and frightening as before. The faces on the nurses and orderlies see-sawed between charitable kindness and burned-out indifference. Piles of medical files, ringing telephones, and baskets of goodies for the patients weighed down tall counters. Some of the patients hid behind locked room doors, others wandered the hall chatting to others or to themselves, still others shouted randomly or stared blankly, driven by the array of pharmaceutical drugs being shoved down their throats. Staff cajoled some patients and babied others. Mostly, the patients were ignored. The walls bore few decorations, barely seeming to keep paint on. A blend of hopefulness and lost hope drifted in the air. Crazy walked the halls, life's jester.

Llanview County's psych ward was light years away from Granite.

Tea gripped her purse to her side, her face showing the pity at her surroundings. She'd stopped looking at Todd, stuck on the strangeness. His smile faded. He reached to her, getting her to look back at him, and said, "Welcome to my kingdom." He then smiled again at her, beautiful yet sorry. Sad.

A little relieved at his brevity, she returned his sweetness. "I'm glad to see you," she said. "You look better, good." She wasn't lying - Todd seemed in control. Tea felt his sure hold of her, he seemed confident. She wanted to hug him, an old instinct. The two eyed each other for a moment, unsure who they were now. Strangers? Lovers? Old spouses? Lawyer and client. Tea dropped her gaze.

Just at that moment, a short stocky man, bald-headed and draped in hospital-issued pj's, ran up to Todd and hid behind him, looking out, around Todd's very still body. "Don't tell them I'm here, your Greatness. Please... forgive the trespass on your being... but you see, the guards, they've wrongly accused me of treason and will seek to behead me in the morn, by first light!"

Tea stepped back, searching for Tim but he was busy at the nurse's counter, on the phone. Todd bit his lip, to stop from laughing, "Sir Hammond, I know your loyalty. However... you're trespassing to be sure. Mind your manners and head to your quarters. I will delay the men and speak with them on your behalf. I am king, they will not breach my say."

Tea smiled slightly, rather impressed with Todd's grasp of fantasy English.

The man immediately dropped to his knee, grabbing Todd's hand and kissing it profusely. "Bless you, your Highness, bless all that you are! May the gods continue to shine light down on you!"

Todd pulled back his hand, wiping the wetness on his jeans, "Yeah, yeah, yeah... Sir Hammond... to your quarters."

Sir Hammond ran off to parts unknown... down the hallway.

"Your kingdom?" Tea said.

"Yeah... I meant that literally." He shook his head. "Don't know where he got the idea I was a king..." He chuckled and began walking, but not before grabbing Tea's hand. A hard, solid grab. "Come... let me show you the Grand Hall."

"Ha ha... very funny." He smiled, glancing at her. There was something behind that gaze, though. Something, not so sure.

Tea took in their interlocked hands and a rush of hurt welled inside of her. Too much, too much... she let go. Clutched her purse. When she passed by Tim he eyed her and she shook her head, a bare movement. She wasn't sure she could blow up his kingdom tonight. She did not want to crack open the Violet story. She was truly afraid he could not face that horrid woman again. Something had happened with Violet and it had driven him into his all-familiar darkness. They walked down the hall, passing open and closed doors.

Immediately, Tea saw that patients moved out of their way, people glancing away from him. He walked tall, the limp always there as a solid reminder of his brokenness, or... maybe it was proof that he survived a fight. That if anyone laid a hand on him, an unwanted hand, that he'd come out of it. Yes, there was definitely a sense of fear, caution, wariness... or...what was it?

_Respeto. Respect. _

When they walked into the meeting room, patients scattered, leaving the best couch empty for Todd, the corner couch by the big windows, a highly coveted space. He pulled Tea down, sat close to her. He glanced around the room... many things happened here, when he was so sick. When he couldn't escape his memories. Tea had come back into this life when he was here, back then.

She turned to him, studying him. He suddenly grew wary under her gaze.

"You have clear eyes," she said. "You're clean."

"Kinda hard to score here." He chuckled, but it wasn't very real. Far too much pain lurked behind his words. Confidence faded, water down a drain. Tea reached for him.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

He answered in a hushed voice, "For what? R.J.?" He could barely choke out the man's initials despite the obvious hypocrisy.

Tea felt his hard-as-a-rock bicep under the knit shirt he wore. Still fighting, she thought. She then took his hand and turned it, palm up. Delicately touching his hand, the two living in a quiet space. Then without any notice, she shoved his sleeve down... seeing the burns. One or two fresh ones screamed at her.

He yanked his hand back, covering his wrist, the edge of the sleeve getting pulled into his fist. He shook his head, "I'm not that healed."

She paused, watching him a moment. "I'm sorry for not noticing your pain," she finally said. "You slipped into your addiction like an old pair of shoes, and I didn't notice. You've been using, and it colors you, and I didn't notice. I can see it now, see it like... bright lights, like those letters in your tattoos. I didn't notice the change in you. When you use, you smell different, your color is different. Your eyes... they tell me everything."

"Shut up," he whispered. "This isn't on you."

"I know... but I love you, and I should have noticed. I didn't... SEE... you. And I'm so sorry for that."

He quieted, looking away, into the distance beyond the windows. Tea touched his face, getting him to look at her. She studied his eyes now, heavy with thought, memory... "I love you, in spite of everything," she said. He didn't respond. Things got suddenly difficult. His mouth twitched and Tea could see the depth of hurt there. No, he was nowhere near... _healed._

"How can you love me? Tea?"

"I just do. I always have, always will. You...are the sun... you burn me, and yet I still want you." She looked around, looked at him hard. "You're my heroin. You're going to kill me, and I don't care."

He bent down to her, scooting, grabbing her hips and holding his face against her lap... Tea touched his head, his hair, feeling heat from his body. She whispered, "It's okay." They sat entwined that way for a long while. Tea missed her meeting with Rolon. Todd had moved and pulled her into his arms. He whispered that he was sorry for holding back, for secrets, for having died inside Statesville without telling her.

"You're not dead," she said.

"Yeah, Delgado, I am. I watch my life from far away. An observer. Huh, look at that, I say, look at that mess. Look at that love. None of it is me... I'm a ghost. Got no control, got nothing."

No control. The words hit her hard because... he was most definitely in control of MK and she suspected he didn't want to give up control. She sat up. Pulled away. Looked hard at him. "You don't have control? Bullshit."

He shook his head, looked away, shrugging. "I don't-"

"Talk to me about MK. There haven't been any killings of Serrano gang members. Three deaths of MK members and then... stillness."

The light clicked on... she wasn't referring to his addiction or his psychological nightmare. "Wow, nice segue." He paused. She hadn't smiled, maintained deadly seriousness. He glanced around the room, turned to her. "I put a halt on all business."

"And Moreno is okay with that."

He nodded, chewed on his lip. "He listens to me. When I'm not fucked up on dope."

Tea breathed in deeply. "Tim said he's footing the bill here."

"Yeah. He apologized for the little _incident_."

Tea steamed...took another breath to contain the hate bubbling inside of her. Todd cleared his throat, seemed to be holding in a smile. She bristled at that. "What's so funny? He is not funny, what he did was not funny. He nearly killed you. And you... just took it."

Todd appeared a little stunned. "You sound like Tim. He been talking to you?"

"He doesn't have to talk to me... you have made choices well within your control and it's affecting our life. Why don't you just kill him off? Kill that bastard who's helped ruined your life, the man who has helped keep you in prison? I get that you were under the influence, but... I want you testify against him, Todd."

Tea could feel every inch of Todd's body tighten with tension. He visibly swallowed. A dark look came over his face. "I can't." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I just can't."

Tea didn't want to threaten him. She didn't want to do what Blair had done to him for so long regarding Starr, but now... now she felt a greater understanding for that ultimate threat. She watched the words roll off her tongue, easily. "If you don't, I will divorce you. You will never see your children again."

"Are you fucking kidding me? Taking lessons from Blair now?" He rubbed his face, smoothing his goatee. "I can't," he said coldly. His walls flew up, hard impenetrable walls. His eyes grew icy.

Tea knew her husband... this was how he reacted to her telling him to get off heroin. He fought her on her opinions if they conflicted with his own base instincts. Todd's eyes moved past her, to Tim who stood at the door talking to an orderly. Tim eyed them quickly, returning to the orderly.

"Why can't you? Tell me." She grabbed his cheeks, shaking his head for emphasis, "Baby... tell me why you can't end your connection with him?"

The pain in those eyes told her too much - they drifted across her features and reddened, moisture making them glassy in the light. "I am beholden to him. He saved my life. I just can't..."

Pushing her away, he then sunk into himself. Dark, sad, a man given a kingdom to rule that he never asked for, didn't want, and now finding himself willing to die for it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Tea suddenly changed her mind about Violet. He needed to know about her, that he officially had an out on that front. She was going to have to accept that. This was inevitable. But was he ready to hear it? She wasn't going to upset him, but now... she felt... what the hell? Tear the bandage off. Tim wanted her to. He needed to face Violet again.

"You're free, you know." She said.

"How am I free?"

She dug into her purse, looked behind her at Tim. He nodded, assuring her that he was watching over everything. She went back and forth again - glanced at her husband who was growing impatient. "Tea... come on... what?"

She pulled out the picture from the video. Handed it to Todd.

"Do you recognize him?"

Todd looked at the grainy picture, his mouth twitched at the sight of the two. Violet and her rapist. He looked at Tea, his face blanching. His breath had sped up. Tea reached to him and felt his cheek with the back of her hand. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head, said quietly, "I'm going to be sick. Fuck." He breathed, the picture falling to the ground. He sat back on the couch, closing his eyes. Breathing, breathing. Tea looked at Tim and he moved closer. Tea picked up the picture and returned it to her bag.

After a few moments, Todd breathed easier. He seemed to be coming out of it. He looked at Tea. "Violet..."

"Violet Jerome. She's willing to testify against Darryl. It'll never get to that - we have him dead to rights. I don't know what's going to happen."

"She's very... _ruined_."

"I know. She's a sexual predator; she likes child pornography."

Todd looked away into the distance. Softly, he asked, "Where did you get that?"

"Ty came to me; he had the tape of the two together. Scared to death to have it. I saw it with my own eyes. Your lawyer has it now. Violet implied she has more footage." Todd sat still, still looking far away. There wasn't even a twitch on his face. A long minute passed. Tea touched him, his shoulder.

"_She likes to watch," _he said in a voice she could barely hear now.

Tea's face crumpled with concern, "She told you that?"

"Yeah." His voice got ragged, his breathing speeding up again.

_Did your daddy do this to you? Rub you like this? Oh he did, huh, 'cause you like this, god, god, you like this... Jesus look at your hungry cock... crying out for your daddy. I'm here. You my boy, my beautiful boy... I'm a fuck you, now, I'm a fuck you... You gonna come so hard baby... remembering me... do you see me now... come on come on come on... oh yeahhhhh... god you wanted this... hahahahaha... call me daddy... call me big poppa..._

Todd turned hotly, vomited into the planter next to the couch. Tea reached hard for him, "I'm sorry.. I'm sorry... TIM!"

His hair fell around his face and a long string of spit hung off his lips. Tim walked fast, calling an orderly.

_Kiddo, come back... come back..._

Through a haze, Todd heard voices, but he only saw Violet. Her mouth cut across her pale face... dead eyes, soulless eyes. The sound of her hand on him, wet, slapping... fast... as she straddled his half-naked body. Her laughter.

_Yeah, yeah... you like this... you so good... Daddy loves you... comeoncomeoncomeon..._

Oh yeah, she'd acted the part and his body just went with it. His cock sprang to life beneath her fingers, her voice low and deep as his brain went into the past. His real self separated from that body on the floor and he stood next to her in this half-world and the two watched Peter work his sickness out on a young boy. Todd looked into Violet's eyes as she led him through her own hell. The two screamed together, sheer agony, orgasms that had left him raw and wrecked.

_Crazy. Crazy shit._

The only relief had been the heroin. He'd snorted enough to numb the pain, to throw the bitch back onto his office couch, and send Peter back into hell. From his own stupor across the room, he'd watched her go unconscious and knew she'd taken too much but he didn't give a shit because finally, the pain had ended.

And god, GOD, he wanted to be high now. _Fuck._

Tea had a wet cloth and cooled his skin. He looked at her, a million miles away. Knowing his eyes were dead, eyes showing his own soullessness. Beautiful Tea. Beautiful perfect strong Tea. Safe and protected. Never ruined. Then he looked at their reflections in the large windows. He could jump, he thought. Jump onto the street and run, run back to Sixteenth Street to get high. To chase away Violet and everyone. Tea kept saying, talk to me, talk to me. But he couldn't, because Violet stood in the way, Brandy, Smithy...Diego, Phillip, Peter.

_Pedro._

Tim drifted in front of him and Tim held his face in warm hands. "Come on, Manning. That's in the past, this is now. Talk to me. Look where you are."

Todd did just that, his eyes looking at the couch, at the sick in the planter, the splashed creamy sick. Chicken cream soup, he thought. Fucking hospital food. His eyes drifted across the the carpet to Tea's worried face. Guilty. Guilty for showing him Violet again. For cutting him open. For seeing the black inside of him.

"There you are," Tim said softly.

"I am nothing..." Todd whispered to him.

"You are you, YOU. Stay here."

The ghosts cleared away and somewhere inside of him, a certain truth stepped forward. Darryl. Darryl... caught with his fucking pants down. Literally. Everything Violet had said was true. She hadn't been lying about who she was, and what she knew.

He didn't have to testify against Pedro. It was done. He blinked. He was free of Darryl. Testifying.

_Thank god... thank god... thank god._

Pushing everyone off him, he growled, "Get the fuck away... get away." He then laughed a sharp low hysterical laugh... looked at Tea, at her handbag. Grabbed it and pulled the picture out. He looked at the picture, his mouth a tight lip-pressing grin. "I fucking HAVE you, you sick son of a bitch," he murmured.

Tea sighed, a relief... and a sadness. Tim knew the Violet thing had come forward and knew Todd would talk about it now. Another relief. Except... except...

Darkly, Todd eyed Tea. "I'm gonna kill him, you know."

Tea closed her eyes, reaching for him. "Shhh... let's talk about that later... are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm great. Fucking great."

"You don't sound okay." She knew him. She could see him eyeing the door. The addict... he'd come to life again. She could smell it, like fear, like sex... she could see it, dilated eyes, a jumpiness... his blood had changed. He wanted out. Only this time, he seemed to be colored with another layer... hate. Vengeful, thick, choking hate. All Tea could think was... _oh shit. _"Todd... promise me... you'll deal with this in two weeks. Okay? Stay here, okay?"

"Stay here?" Todd tipped his head a little to the side. "Stay here for what? To get better? To protect fucking DARRYL?"

"Todd..."

He eyed her for a long while. Glanced at Tim. Looked down at the picture. Tossed it back at Tea. "Yeah, yeah... I'll stay here."

Tim looked at Tea, "I'll call you." Deadly serious. Tim was concerned, rightly so. Tea grabbed her stuff. Stood looking down at her husband, leaned in and kissed his hot head. He hardly responded, dug deep into a hole. A hole revealed by not much scratching. He stood up, putting his hand out... pushing everyone away. "I'm going to my room."

He disappeared, an orderly following right behind him.

Tea sighed, heavy tears rolling down her face. "I'm sorry."

Tim smiled, "Nope, nope... I knew the image would break him. He needed to be broken. He cannot heal unless he faces his demons... he was being too good. And too good is very dangerous."

"Ever-present demons."

"Yeah."

"Tim... I'm really worried - I know you wanted this Violet thing out in the open... but I don't like what I'm seeing or hearing."

"No... no, I got this." He paused, looking at the open doorway through which Todd had disappeared. He turned back to Tea. "He needed it out. This is still progress."

"Ten years ago I would have agreed with you. But he has changed, Tim. This... is not the Todd you think you know."

* * *

><p>Tim knocked on the door before unlocking it and walking in. He found Todd in the darkened room, staring out the window into the endless night.<p>

"What happened with Violet, kid?"

Todd shrugged, said after a long moment of silence, "She showed herself to me. She got turned on in a way people shouldn't. And my body... it didn't care. I responded like a good boy. I did exactly what my father wanted me to do... in that bed, in that house."

Tim sat on the bed. Listening. Todd described slowly, disconnectedly, a horrifying scene in his office that had led him to the heroin. Every gory detail. Violet had more or less raped him. She'd drugged him with memories, with her own past, and then she abused him once he was compliant and submissive... "She sounded like him, she moved like him, and I came so fucking hard... a good boy."

...her words haunted him now, his sexual excitement complicating the sickening experience. When she was done with him, she laid out the heroin. He had crawled to it, clothes torn apart, falling off him, and he buried his face in the powder. She had watched him get high, self-pleasuring at the sight of his broken-down self. He had no defenses by that time. None whatsoever. All his "coping skills" had gone out the window. He was purely, thoroughly destroyed. She laughed at what was left of him.

_You loved that so fucking much! Don't tell me you didn't. You been wanting your daddy to do that to you since he stopped. That's why you go with men. You don't got no blind cock... you want them. You know exactly who they are. You want your Daddy._

He'd been too far away to kill her, to shut her mouth for good. She'd crawled to him... leaned in close... pushed him down and got on him. Rode him until she was screaming again. He just watched the thing happen. Just like before. Like all those years before. He remembered following the lines in the room, watching the lights out the window. Remembered the emptiness when he ejaculated with her, inside of her. She lay down hard on him, breathed in his ear. Her sweaty hands caressing his face.

_I can be that... I can be him whenever you want. Call me Daddy._

"I'm never going to be free of it, Doc. She got to me so easily. Just words, a little show... dragged me straight into hell. I fuckin' fell to pieces." He turned and looked at Tim. "I'm a time bomb. I'm gonna walk out of here.. healthy, clean... and a few words later... gonna send me right back. I'm... never going to be free." Tears rolled down his face. He turned and watched outside again. Quiet for a while.

"How did she know about me, Doc? How did she know what to say? It was like she had a some kind of... manual on me... she just fuckin' knew. A direct line into my psyche."

Shrugging, Tim "Why do you think she knew? She was being herself... you just reacted. She just had good luck."

"She knew something... from Ty. Maybe he knew things, too... more... from Jackson."

"Jackson? That's a new name, I think."

Todd dragged his eyes to Tim and more tears rolled down. Tim's face crumpled in concern, compassion. Todd said quietly and slowly who Smithy Jackson was. Why he knew so much. How Jackson might have shared information after the whole kennel situation. The words flowed easily under Tim's gaze. Tim didn't act surprised or shocked or anything. He'd explained before how such a thing might be possible. How Todd might not differentiate between men and women... abusers... victims.

"Tim, I will kill that guy in the picture. Do you understand that?"

"Yeah. And do you understand that I have every right to warn him. Call the police. You understand that, right?"

"Do what you want. But know this... he's a goddamn devil. Pure evil. He's probably still entertaining himself with children. You want to protect him? Draw the line in the sand, Doc."

"Violet abused you, she raped you... is she safe?"

Todd shook his head, "No."

"But she's a victim..."

"Not anymore." The tears kept coming... he spoke words... through them. They inched down his cheeks, pearls quickly replaced by more as soon as they disappeared into his collar.

Tim got up and stood right next to Todd who couldn't stop the crying. Soundless, wordless crying. His face didn't show it, his features unmoving... but the tears told the truth. Tim gently laid a hand on Todd's shoulder, saying in a soothing voice, "It's okay, it's okay. None of this is your fault. You'll kill these ghosts, you will."

"He's going to die, Superman..."

The squeeze only got tighter... "You're okay... you're going to be okay..." Tim felt a deep shudder roll through Todd's body, a pained gasp. Two hours later, after much talk, serious discussion of his past, Violet, his desperately needed coping skills, Tim finally left... all _seeming _good. Tea had definitely cracked Todd wide open. She'd done good. The kid... slept soundly. Or so it _seemed_.

Fact was, Tea was right. Tim was not comforted. The talk... had been just talk. Before Todd closed his eyes, he'd said, "They're all gonna die, Superman. If it's the last thing I do."

The nurse outside the door said, "Rough night?"

"Yeah..." Tim looked up and down the quiet halls, "Can our patients get out? I mean seriously. You've been here a long time. Can they get out?"

The nurse looked hard at the doctor, "Nobody has ever gotten out of our locked ward by breaking out." But then she took a deep breath. "Mostly, what happens is that lawyers break them out."

A tired hand rubbed Tim's face, and he eyed the nurse. "Lawyers. Goddamn lawyers. Shit."

* * *

><p>That night had gone well. The next night, too. And the five after that. Todd's days were busy with sessions, both group and one-on-one. Tim was proud of the work, seeing how he was able to talk about Violet with much less shock, much less denial. He was able to grasp what might have happened to him, begin to see it for what it was: assault. A rape. She had managed to trigger him, whether intentional or not, then abuse him. He had fully dissociated much like when he was a child. Tough reality to swallow.<p>

From there, he finally opened up fully about his prison trysts, beginning to process the incidents with a higher level of acceptance, with increased understanding. No shame. Guilt was another story. Confusion. Tim kept pushing, don't judge your experiences, just try to understand them. For now. He worked hard on coping with his life. He confronted his sexual dependence, the connection to heroin. He... worked hard. Slept hard. He_ seemed_ healthier. There would always be more work to do.

One week passed and Tim grew confident that Todd was going to make the thirty days. Until that seventh night.

Six o'clock had rolled around, dinner was being eaten, visitors were in and out. A well-dressed man, Cornelius Bravo, Esquire, showed up at the locked-down ward. A nurse smiled and asked what she could do for him.

"You have a patient here, Todd Manning?"

"Yes." She sighed, she knew. She could spot a damn lawyer from a mile away especially this one in his silk suit, his Armani eyeglasses, and manly cologne. "He's here for another week," she said.

"Not anymore. Court order. Release him."

The nurse looked down and swallowed hard. "This isn't good for him," she said.

"You think I give a shit what's good for him? All I care is that the judge says right here, 'Let him the fuck out.'" He smiled, coolly, showing his paperwork and bright teeth, teeth that gave him a shark-like appearance. His suit was expensive, black. Italian.

She nodded, disappointed, and said, "Let me make some calls."

The man smiled. "Call away. Then let him the fuck out."

* * *

><p>The man lit up a hand-rolled cigarette and handed it to Todd as he shifted the sleek black BMW into gear, the stark concrete of the hospital behind them. They drove the main boulevards of Llanview. Night had fallen, the lights were delicious. Todd rolled down the window and watched the passing city. The cool air hit him hard in the face and he closed his eyes.<p>

Tim had smashed into Todd's room and begged him to stay voluntarily ... Todd said no, plainly, immoveable as stone. He'd looked his doctor in the eyes, whispered, MK for fuckin' life. The doctor tried to argue, saying he wasn't ready to leave. He needed more time, tell your people to wait another goddamn week.

Todd had said, emotionlessly, MK doesn't roll like that. I gotta go. He then walked close to his doctor, saying you did good. I have enough, I got enough these three weeks. I'm good, okay?

He breathed the smoke in and it felt good, a slight warmth running through his system. He looked at the cigarette and wondered if it was spiked. Shrugged. Closed his eyes again at the cool air coming through the window. "Cornelius, you said?"

The man smiled back, "Cornelius Bravo, class of '89, Stanford Law, at your service."

"Stanford, as in Cali?"

"Yes, born and raised in _Los Angeles_, city of angels." He said Los Angeles with a Spanish accent. "Now I'm special counsel to Pedro Moreno." He paused, glanced at his passenger. "Your freedom has strings, you know."

"Like what?"

"If you use again in a way that interferes with your responsibilities, both family, the paper, and Moreno's business, if you fuck up your appearance, your dignity and judgment, there will be consequences to pay."

"What do you mean, 'use in a way?' Don't I need to be off the shit?"

"Pedro needs you to do your job. He ain't the goddamn DEA. He needs you on your toes, not saintly. Your whores and smack are your business, like always. He'd prefer you stay off completely, but... he says you were good up until now. Just keep it in-house. MK product only. MK whores only. Stay away from Gannon's women, or the Jamaican goods. You were handling it before - get back to that, get back to handling your shit, and do what's expected of you."

"What are the consequences of fucking-up?"

"Fuckin' serious." The lawyer smiled. "You like my cigarette?"

Todd nodded, looking at it. He liked how he felt. Nice. Then looked back at the lawyer... Shook his head at the continued smile of the lawyer. "It's got shit in it, doesn't it?"

_Sonofabitch._

Cornelius dug into a glove compartment that lay in between them. Brought out a plastic bag with about ten of the hand-rolled cigarettes. "For a rainy day, my man."

Guilt stabbed at his chest. He sucked the last of the cigarette and threw it out the open window. He took the baggie.

They pulled up to Todd's house. The house was darkened, Tea obviously not home. Baggie in hand, Todd opened the car door. Cornelius handed him keys. "House key. Car key. Pedro wants to see you at the club later tonight. If not tonight, tomorrow night. He capitulates to you, my friend."

"I can't drive, I have seizures-"

Cornelius laughed, "Yeah, I took care of that. You're officially seizure-free. When can I inform Mr. Moreno that you gonna be at the Havana?"

"Tonight, Just wanna get cleaned up."

The man nodded, murmured, "Yes, sir," and sped away. Todd turned, looking at his house, the blackened windows. Unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house smelled like a piece of heaven he forgot. Like he died and suddenly remembered his trip to the other side. He practically wept. Stood in the foyer for long minutes. He missed his children. He missed his life. He missed Tea. He was kind of high.

_Fuck._

He walked in the dark, ran his hands along the wall, lights from outside putting a ghostly pallor on furniture. He stepped into the living room. Watching the massive windows. He was free of the hospital. Felt good. He believed in his heart of hearts that he'd stay off dope and whores. But then he found himself unconsciously massaging the crook of his arm, needles suddenly in his head. Thinking...

_MK product only._

Jumped out of his skin when he realized he was looking at Tea sitting on a chair in the unlit living room.

"Holy FUCK, woman!"

"Why are you here? Tim called me. Told me you were coming home."

"I don't know... Pedro made some arrangement. Court release." He breathed deeply, shoving the baggie into his back pocket, hands up again, rubbing his face. "I'm okay. Really. I only had a week left anyway."

She got up and walked close to him, "You are not well yet."

"Yeah, yeah... I am. I have my head on straight, I promise you. This past week... has been... like throwing up for days... lots of toxic shit, okay...? Where are the kids... I miss 'em." He reached out and touched Tea's face, his thumb on her cheek. She didn't soften in her study of him. She was scared. She jerked her head at his touch. He pulled his hand back, dug his fists into jean pockets.

"Everyone is at your sister's house," she said. "Even Jed and Rose. You're not okay yet. You need more time. Another month. Maybe more."

"I promise, I'm good. Stable with my meds, religious about it. Gonna do this out-patient. You won't be finding me in any emergency ward or... motel rooms... or a kennel."

"I don't trust you."

"Yeah I get that. You shouldn't. I don't have any right to your trust." He continued to look at her. He didn't want to tell her that needles were dancing in his head. That fucking spiked ciggies were in his back pocket.

_MK product._

Then said, "I have to meet with Pedro. Tonight. Come with me."

Tea stepped back. "What?"

"Come with me. I'm a king... I need my queen."

Tea swallowed, unsure. Studied him hard. "I'm not your queen."

"I want him to see you."

"Why?"

He paused. "Because... on the way over here, over the past week. I thought about you wanting me to testify. I thought about our family. My real family." He paused. "I've been protecting him. He is my... father. But... my father was a monster, so maybe Pedro is a monster, too."

"You're going to testify?"

"No, but... maybe there's another way. And this other way... maybe he needs to see you. Maybe you need to get to know him. Maybe he needs to see me as committing to MK fully, with you behind me."

Tea moved and sat down again. Found herself trembling. Todd stood tall in the dark, imposing. She could easily see him killing someone, maybe even her. Shook the image away. She wondered what his idea was, but didn't ask. Why? What silenced her? His expression was one of grave indifference. He might as well have been talking about her going to the supermarket with him.

"What about Darryl? Violet?"

"Working on Darryl and Violet." He moved close to her, squatted down and took her hand in his. "Tea, Darryl's activities... part of a larger ring, I'm guessing. I've known about some people for a while now and I got to thinking that Darryl has something to do with it. I was going to hand shit over to the cops, but didn't want any light on MK. Time's come. I'm going to fix this."

"You're going to tell the cops?"

"I'm thinking about it. Might be other ways to tear that down."

"Then what?"

"Then... we'll see."

She looked down, pulled her hand away. "If I go with you, you won't use drugs. Or see whores. I'll be worried about you if you go alone."

He said nothing, then... "I'm fine, I told you."

"I don't trust you."

"Yeah... I know. You shouldn't."

An hour later, Tea had agreed. An hour later, they were flying down the hill into Llanview in Todd's beloved BMW, dressed to kill, smelling like power. When they hit the Havana, music bounced out of the languid restaurant coiled in this quiet corner of the city. They snaked their way through the parking lot, sliding to stillness. The lights glimmered, bright and promising. Laughter came through the windows...

She looked at Todd and he looked back at her, grinning like a wolf.

"Welcome to my kingdom," he said.

Musica Cubana: /E_zQZWZfsbI

**To be continued...**


	31. Chapter 31

Caged

Chapter 31

_Rolon picked up Todd in the alley behind his office building. He had slow-driven his long fine 1950's Chevy along the boulevard, coming to a stop where Todd stood. Todd jerked open the heavy door and climbed in._

"_Time to meet Pedro Moreno," Rolon said. "Our leader is anxious to finally meet _El Diablo Blanco_, the man who brought millions to MK by single-handedly bringing down our rivals to a manageable number. All from behind bars..." _

_Rolon chuckled; Todd didn't. He'd been home mere days from Statesville and wasn't adjusting well. Found himself confused at times... mixed up over how he was supposed to act. He clamped down on his teeth, rubbed his scruffy face, and glanced out the window. His knuckles were still sore from beating the holy shit out of RJ Gannon. Wondered now if he was about to get killed for all the shit he pulled in prison in the name of MK. He almost jumped out the moving car. _

"_Fuck you," he grumbled, his hand on the door handle, "... you just fuckin' jealous."_

"_He thinks you're a god, man."_

"_I must be... 'cause I should be dead already."_

"_True that, _coño. _A hundred times over._"

_Moreno's mansion lay in the next county over, a magnificent spread on twenty acres of lush forested property. The road twisted and turned and opened onto brick and mortar. A castle worthy of only the richest of men in the region. The discovery of that beautiful house should have been more enjoyable, exciting, but by the time they got there,Todd was in full defense mode and couldn't break out of it no matter what he tried. Meditation, positive messages, breathing... he perspired at the useless effort._

_Rolon dropped him off with nothing but a wink and sped away._

Sonofabitch.

_Todd turned and looked at the massive front door, shining with wood and glass. The windows beside the door and all along the second and third floors above seemed to be hiding snipers. He fought with everything in him not to duck into the bushes. He breathed hard, every sense on fire, his paranoia at full tilt._

_Door... door... just a goddamn door._

_For the shortest of seconds, he wasn't sure how to get in. Where were the men with keys? Wait. A doorbell... he recalled. Right. DAMN. He pulled his hair out of his face. _

_The door opened just as he reached for the doorbell. He took two quick steps back... needing to asses this enemy and finding just a man. Pedro Moreno was casually dressed, sporting grey shaggy hair and smiling a side smile. He was good looking, wearing his 65+ years on his five-foot-eleven frame well. Rugged ladies' man who didn't act like he wanted to kill Todd after all. On the other hand... sometimes death comes at you with a grin on its face. _

_Pedro spoke with a soft Spanish-language accent, saying, "Todd Manning, _El Diablo Blanco._ I have been looking forward to meeting you for some time. You do not disappoint." He'd stepped back, too, taking in the intense gaze and raw energy that emanated from his tallish guest with long grey-lined hair and an ugly scar across his face...like an aged-out male model that got run over by a truck. Twice._

_Todd nodded, "Pedro Moreno, then."_

"_Yes, yes, welcome to my home. As they say in our American cowboy movies, _mi casa es su casa." _He laughed lightly while talking. "_Ven conmigo, _... come with me, let's sit on my patio. It's a lovely summer day, don't you think?" _

_Todd waited more time than one would normally wait. He looked inside the foyer, looked up the stairs, taking in the ins and outs... eyed Pedro before stepping inside. Pedro had waited, knowing, seeing it all...yes, this man fit the stories he'd heard. The paranoia. The wildness. A man who could find out anything and risk everything to accomplish what he needed. And clearly, a man still operating on prison time._

_The patio looked over green hills bordered by untamed forest. There were gardens to the left and right. There was a pool house in the distance. Birds sang, a light breeze moved leaves and a wind chime somewhere. The patio itself was paved with beautiful red tiles... Spanish, maybe. Todd surveyed the surroundings, turning around, landing on Pedro who put his hand out, offering a seat to Todd at the carefully set glass and iron table. Flowers, wine classes, fine china, two liquor-filled tumblers. Heavy iron chairs with delicately embroidered pillows. The table occupied the center of the patio... and the fact that the table didn't set up against a wall set his teeth on edge. He'd be vulnerable, his back unprotected. _

_Standing, he grabbed a glass indelicately and swallowed the brown liquor but made a face. Slammed the glass down, harder than he meant to. He grunted an apology. "You got any whiskey? Rum ain't my thing."_

_From behind, Pedro carelessly put a hand on Todd's shoulder only Todd didn't sense the good intention, turning and grabbing Pedro by the throat. He shoved him back against a pillar, hard, hard as hell... Pedro gasped with pain, amazed at the power that trapped him against the brick; he could not move an inch._

_Three men with guns shot out from hidden places and Todd heard big guns click... bringing him back to reality._

_"You will be dead before you can hurt me," Pedro panted._

_"Don't count on that."_

_Pedro smiled. He believed the threat. He'd heard Todd fought like five men rather than one, winning even when outmanned, out-weaponed, outweighed. Rumor was he'd keep fighting even if already dead._

_Todd eyed him, one hand around the man's throat, the other on his chest, fabric caught in his tightened fist. He saw Pedro's assuring glances to the men about to blow Todd's brains out all over those pretty tiles. _

"Mi amigo_..." Pedro said, "_Perdoname_... I'm sorry... I forgot you just have come home. You are jumpy."_

_Todd swallowed hard and finally let go of Pedro._

_Pedro said, "Leave us... he will not hurt me." When the men hesitated, Pedro yelled, "LEAVE US!"_

_Todd didn't have the decency to be embarrassed. He surveyed the place and sat down, closed his eyes a minute. Listening still. Ready still. In his broken, bad Spanish, he said, "I am sorry, sir, I am sorry for jumping at you. Please give my apologies to your men. Please accept my apologies."_

_Pedro chuckled, moving from the pillar, closer to the table. "Not bad Spanish_._ No apologies necessary. I spent ten years in upstate. It takes time to adjust." Pedro didn't sit yet, just stood watching Todd from across the table. "Your newspaper... you are back in charge? How are you doing there?"_

_Todd shrugged, poked the utensils, the china. Glanced around, his voice calmer, quieter, "Yeah, in charge. Have to get used to people standing close in elevators... coming in and out of my office... street crowds... kinda disorienting." He tried to smile but found his muscles didn't move that way. Ran a hand through his hair. _

_"Are you disoriented at home, my friend? With your family... your wife?"_

_Todd only glanced a moment at Pedro, then watched a woman come from the house. She poured a glass full of bourbon. He'd waved away ice, water, soda. As he drank, he followed her with his eyes, taking in her long bare legs. Short skirt. Dirty thoughts ran through his head about Tea. He bit his tongue to break the images. Without thought, he adjusted his cock. Drank some more. Yeah, yeah... everything disoriented him._

_Pedro finally sat, indulging in the dark rum. "You have done well for us," he said to a barely responding Todd. "I have plans for you," he added._

_Todd looked up, inquiring silently._

"_You were able to remove the Irish. We secured the methamphetamine business." Pedro glanced across his property, a deep frown on his face. "Meth... is not my cup of tea. I want out. I want to trade it away in favor of a more lucrative business."_

"En total?"

"_No. Just that division. I'm interested in expanding our diamond business."_

"_Hm."_

"_I have a small jewelry company - it's doing well, but could do better. Our people, we, my family will do better with the higher-end diamonds."_

_Todd sipped his drink. "Sounds expensive."_

"_The diamonds... are very valuable."_

"_Google does better. Way lower capital output. Something like that would be better."_

_Pedro eyed Todd. "Of course... you're a businessman. You would know."_

_Sitting forward, Todd picked out a cigarette from a lavish ceramic basket of cigarettes. Next to it lay a box of cigars. Picked his favorite Camel. Sat back, lit up. Watched the smoke drift upwards. Caught Pedro's gaze. "Hate the drug business. It's messy, easy to lose control over. Money's good, but the security issues..., laundering..."_

_Pedro had to sit back, silenced. Impressed. Todd had a plan for selling the illegal meth operation they'd stolen from the Irish. Sell it to the highest bidder. The fallout was revolutionary. Chaotic. Someone else's mess. Someone else's war. Sink the funds into venture capital to purchase hot online properties. MK would be sitting fat and pretty, on top of a holding company that would sell various properties every so often for millions. Fuck the diamonds, fuck the drugs. _

_Real money wasn't in illegal activity. _

"_Fattest cats ain't in the mafia," he said. "They're on Wall Street."_

_Who would have thought such brilliance lurked in this crude monster of a man? Pedro did not forget the monster though. He was... unpredictable. Far too independent. He needed taming. He needed reminding of his allegiance. _

_They drank, and the afternoon wore into night. They drove to the Havana where Todd met the others. It had been a long fucking night. A constant battle to stay connected to Llanview. The crowd sometimes made him think he was in the Statesville cafeteria or the crowd after dinner. Many times he shoved someone, bristling, then felt Pedro's sharp grab of his shoulder. Too many strangers, too many shadows, too much closeness of men he didn't know. They all had guns and knives. And he had jack shit. He hardly drank, had a migraine for all the work at keeping his paranoia and confusion at bay. _

_By midnight, he just wanted to get back home... and get in bed with Tea. She'd been looking for him. He lied to her, said he was schmoozing with a potential newspaper seller. And while he kept saying "home" to himself, he saw a prison cell and wanted the safety of it badly._

_As they finally walked out of the Havana into the cold night air, a busboy ran smack into Todd. Todd cussed rudely, shoving him to the side, the kid falling and then running inside. Pedro had at last reached his limit of barely contained jailhouse behavior... _

_They walked to the side of the restaurant where the limo waited, and there, without warning, Pedro reached back and punched Todd, giving him a powerful thump to the side of his head, a shock. Pedro grabbed the unbalanced Todd by the shirt, and pushed him hard against the cold outside wall... an arm now up against his throat... and a hefty semi-automatic dug deep into his side._

"_You act like an animal around my workers again... and I will teach you a lesson you will not forget. Do you understand me?"_

_Todd found his bitter smile... "I thought you liked me."_

_Pedro snorted... "You are in my world now. Statesville is gone. Get under control, _maricon. Comprende_?"_

"_Yes, _yo te comprendo."

_Pedro reached to the collar of Todd's shirt and tore it open, Todd keeping still. Pedro dragged the gun's barrel along Todd's neck, tracing the snake there. He stared hard at his newly freed recruit. "You are MK... _pero no es Cubano. _Your membership is_ _an unprecedented privilege."_

_Todd huffed through his teeth, stressed, feeling the unspoken threat, "I will work on my manners."_

"_You will..." Pedro turned his head, releasing Todd at last, looking in the direction of the front door of the Havana. Expecting someone. As Todd straightened his clothes, and Pedro put the weapon back away, a woman emerged. She had long dark hair, a green silky dress showing off her every curve, and a brilliant smile on a near-perfect face. She caught Todd's gaze. Dragged her eyes back to Pedro._

"_Is this our new friend, _mi amor?"

"_Yes, Gloria, he needs taming... calming. Get in the car. Teach him to be decent."_

_Todd, horrified, shook his head... "The hell...?"_

_Pedro turned hard on him. Spat, "You will spend the next hour with this woman. You will fuck her like a gentleman... you will do this so I can be assured you're not abusing your gentle wife. If you don't... I will remove the color... I will cut out every line from your throat to your cock. Are we clear?"_

_Todd could hardly breathe now... he was beyond control. Pedro obviously knew Todd wouldn't take to such a thing. Killing a person, even an innocent, whatever... fucking on command? Giving a show of it? No, no, that dug into his very screwed-up psyche, recalled his way-back history. And THAT scared the shit out of him._

_He turned to the woman... and in his best voice of reason, said, "Please... forgive me... I need a word in private." Her smile had long vanished. She turned... walked inside._

_Turning onto Pedro, hate surfing his every word, his entire body on fire, Todd yelled, "I am NOT your goddamn dog! I call the shots here, I do! I have enough shit on you to burn your whole fucking life up! YOU AND EVERY OTHER FUCKING CUBAN IN THERE!"_

_In a quiet voice, Pedro said, "You are disoriented... you have no idea who you are talking to. YOU are in need of taming. You either take the woman... or you are out of MK. The hard way."_

_Taking a step towards Pedro... "Try me. I will fucking kill you before you lay a hand on me."_

_The man slapped him so hard, bones in his head seemed to crack. Pedro grabbed Todd's hair, shoved the gun hard against his cheek. "What did you say? _Digame otra vez_."_

_Todd stood a few moments, panting, shaking with hate but enough sense to think. He could grab that gun right out of the old man's hand... and slam a bullet into his head, but he wouldn't make it ten feet without getting a bullet to his own head. He could get into that limo... cause trouble. Do serious fuckin' damage. Every possible scenario ended with one problem: he could not say for certain his family would be safe after his death. Would MK soldiers hurt them in retaliation for killing Moreno or whatever else? He couldn't answer. He had no experience with MK outside prison._

"_Fuck you," Todd growled._

_Pedro punched him this time, hard in the mouth. Todd's hand flew up, touching blood dripping down his chin. Pulled his hair back. Glowered at the man in front of him. His eyes shifted a moment to the barrel of the gun, rubbing away the blood._

"_What... did... you... say? _Digame."

_Todd was fucking cornered. Although he wasn't in prison anymore and didn't feel he needed any kind of protection, he had a family at home, less than five miles from here, a family who was beyond vulnerable. No, he couldn't say for certain what might happen if he got killed, tonight, by MK soldiers. It wasn't just himself he had to worry about or a bunch of ragtag kids who he really didn't give two shits about. He shut his eyes and looked down. Spat blood out of his mouth at Pedro's shoes._

_He felt the gun against his head, its hard cold metal. Pedro had an arm wrapped around Todd's shoulders. The two seemed intertwined, like lovers, but for the gun. A part of Todd wanted that goddamn bullet. He heard a gentling voice, "My son, MK saved your life over and over in Statesville. You would be rotting in the ground if it wasn't for us. Your family would be deprived of your grace, your strong presence in their lives, if it wasn't for me. You are with them now! Every day, you see them, touch them, talk to them." Todd raised his eyes to Pedro who kept talking in that same gentle tone. Tasted blood in his mouth._

"_We granted you unique, singular dispensation. No color, you said, I agreed. Let me do business with who I want. I agreed. Guards looked away. Anything you wanted, you got. Weapons, drugs, liquor, cell phones... I ignored your..." He paused. Smiled a moment. "I helped you be what you needed to be in order to protect those boys . Not much of an illusion, _verdad_?" He chuckled at Todd's slight reaction, a bare jerk of his head. _

_Pedro tightened his grip, whispered into Todd's ear, "I know what you did after dark. How you used those boys. I did not tell any of my men. They would have killed you. A guard there... watched you sometimes."_

"_You're a liar."_

_Pedro laughed out loud at Todd's empty gaze, "Am I?"_

_Todd looked away, his breath tight._

_Pedro laughed quietly, "I know you very well. I protected your life inside. I helped you rid the world of that scum, Horenda, you needed to kill. And so much more. So now... you owe me. You owe MK your life. So... tell me, what do you say to me?"_

_Long moments passed, Todd caught in Pedro's unwavering gaze. Like a spider in a web. Raggedly, he finally answered, "I am MK. It is a privilege to be a non-Cuban in MK. I owe you my life."_

"_I thought that's what you said. Yes, you are MK, my bastard son."_

_The gun slid once again into Pedro's coat and he grabbed Todd by the shoulders with both hands and kissed him on the cheek, both sides. He was right. Todd was MK and he was fucked ten ways to Sunday. He backed down. Gloria got called back. The limo rolled next to them and she got inside. The door sat open like coffin's lid. Todd climbed in. _

_Pedro told the driver to return in an hour, spoke some additional instructions in Spanish. When the door shut, the driver raised the privacy glass, but only part way. He was to act as a witness to this medieval deflowering. No, that wasn't it exactly...Todd was to prove he could fuck a woman at all, that he would do what he was told, when he was told. At least this wasn't a gang rape of a young college girl._

_But it might as well have been._

_Gloria looked at him, said in a soft voice, "You do not want this."_

_Todd hunched against the seat, saying nothing. Shaking with barely controlled hate. He eyed the driver who looked at him in the rear view mirror. They exited the parking lot, drove along a quiet road alongside. Headed nowhere._

"_Let's make it quick," she said, "... be gentle... that's the only requirement." Gloria got close, touched his cheek... and he jerked away from her. He glared at her, at the driver. She tried again and he grabbed her hand. "Don't touch me...," he growled under his breath, "I will hurt you."_

_She whispered back, "If you don't fuck me... Moreno will kill you. If I don't tame you... he will kill ME."_

"_You'll already be dead."_

_She sighed, had silent dialog with the driver. After a few minutes, she tried again, reaching to smooth his hair... he jerked at first but then let her because the driver was watching. She touched his cheek, his scar, his lips. She moved her fingertips down his chest. She moved closer, testing him. She felt him trembling, but knew it wasn't fear. He was a pitbull. She knew the risk she was taking. _

_Finally she straddled him. He looked out the window. She kept up the touching. He finally grabbed her ass, hard, and she gasped. Ground her against him. Decided to get this shit over with, putting Tea out of his mind. Trying to step out of his head. Trying to get hard... _trying_ being the operative word. _

_She spread her legs wider... pressing into him. Rubbed her breasts against him. It was no good. His cock was a fucking rebel...lying like a sleeping snake, hissing.. what would your Tea say?_

_The driver bore into him, the gaze saying... _if she were a boy, you'd be getting hard. _The driver smirked and shook his head. Only the woman on his lap prevented him from flying forward and strangling the guy._

"_You're so tense," she said. "This will feel good...Pedro does this for all the men who come home from prison." She rocked her hips and kissed his neck. He could not relax no matter her caresses, her smooth words. Every touch was a violation. Without realizing, he held her hair tight in his fist... he wanted to bash her head against the window so she'd stop. Wanted to take her hair like wire and strangle the driver. Wanted to drive the limo straight into this fucking Pedro Moreno._

_He was MK, and he was fucked. Pedro knew him, knew it would have been easier to ask Todd to kill something, someone. No, he knew Todd, knew him well. Every shitty thing about him. The idea that someone had watched him in prison... watched him in those wretched moments... killed him._

_Gloria bit down to avoid yelping at his painful hold of her hair. She didn't want the driver to see him. She pretended it didn't hurt. She wrapped her arms around him... breathed into his ear, working to soothe him, uselessly. Whispered, "Release my hair, baby, you're hurting me." He did, looking at his hand..._

_The car zipped along in the dark, turning and swaying. Gloria suddenly reached across the seat and dug into her bag. Instinct. "Here, baby. Take some of this."_

_Todd shot an icy look at her and she smiled gently at him, revealing herself to be much younger than he thought. A girl, he thought, just a girl._

"_It's just a little smack," she said quietly._

_Surprised that she hadn't said Viagra, he grunted, "Smack?"_

_She misunderstood. "Yeah, you know, heroin? It'll relax you. I promise." _

_She had no fucking idea._

_After a few minutes of agonized silence, he bent his head and breathed in his favorite drug of choice. God, god, he had missed that. Eyelids dipped, his mouth parted with the loveliness of it. He rubbed his nose with the heel of his hand and slowly licked the remnants of the dope. It was good. Really... fucking... good. He hadn't tasted anything that pure in a long time... this wasn't Statesville's heavily cut heroin. He took her hand and like a starving child snorted another desperate bump._

_Gloria chuckled, said a word that eventually became part of his reputation, "_Pues, _there you go," she murmured, "my handsome man here is a junkie..."_

_In a few minutes his body warmed up and his muscles gave a little. He dropped his head back, sighing heavily, grateful. He felt her straddle him again. She rubbed his chest through his shirt, his arms. Rubbed his shoulders, kneading the loosening muscles. She kissed his neck, unbuttoned his shirt and suckled and bit on his nipples, undulating against him. Her thighs pressed against his... her scent reached the animal part of his brain and he felt himself begin to stir._

"_Much better," she murmured breathily, moving against his growing cock. He didn't need a man, a woman... he needed dope. Her tongue ran along the edge of his ear, along the snake on his neck. "Nobody but me and Pedro and the driver will know about tonight," she huffed into his ear, "... from now on, I'll come only when you want me to. You're in control."_

_He watched her, expressionless, as she lifted the dress up and tossed it aside. She caressed her body, put on a show while the heroin took deeper hold. He watched her until she was shaking, his cock now strained against his jeans. When the spasms stopped, she unzipped him, grabbed hold of him... after a moment, he took her hand and spit into her palm. Put her back on him, shuddering at her touch. He watched her, watched his cock appear and disappear over and over into her fist. He grabbed her head and pushed her face against his chest, saying, bite me. She did and he moaned obscenely at the pain, the high... the sensations. He leaned his head back, focusing on nothing but his body, ignoring the lazy thread of conscience worming around in his brain._

_She purred, "Yeah... you just needed a little something..." She stretched a condom on him. Lowered herself on him. He jerked at the feel, a hand grabbing at the door's window, the other grabbing her ass. She moved up and down slowly, getting him to unconsciously groan, and then pulled at him...urging him to get on top of her. He moved, lifting her easily and slamming her down on the seat. He drove into her, hearing her grunt at the power of it... and she groaned, "Gentle, baby... gentle..."_

_He slowed his effort, but then... ripped off his shirt, too hot, too restricting, yanked his jeans down... Got back to it, hating that his body liked being inside of her even though his brain screamed against it. He pushed hard, harder, their flesh thumping wetly, their panting ragged, evidence to the driver that he was doing the fucking job... that a woman got him hard, that he fucked her the usual way._

_She reached out to him, holding him by his swinging hair because he was getting rough again, her inner thighs burning, his hold of her throat to keep her still getting too tight... and it worked, her words worked. He grew more gentle, controlled himself... let himself feel the high. He touched her breasts, but then didn't... Grabbed her leg and moved in a more concentrated way... he wanted to come already... but the goddamn heroin delayed that..._

_Despite it all, the hate and anger drifted away. The negativity literally fizzled in his blood... disappearing out into the ether through his skin, his hair, evaporating through the windows. He was fully engulfed in a heroin high now. He looked down at the whore's anonymous forgettable young face in that moon's light. Moved his hips as her hands grabbed his ass, as she moved her hips to meet his every thrust. He shoved his tongue in her mouth, kissing her hard, tasting cigarettes and candy. He rested his head against her face. Heard her talking... felt her hands caressing his scars, his colors. She opened wide for him, moaning, talking like a whore. Sex's scent drifted around them._

_The limo wound its way through the back roads of Llanview, the moon and stars shining through the glass of the near-silent car, silent except for the girl's words and the ex-con's hard breaths._

_An hour later, Gloria hopped out of the limo. Pedro stood at the door of the Havana, a cigar in his mouth. Gloria had a few words with him and stepped inside the door, disappearing. Pedro got in the car. Todd sat back in the shadows, slumped against the leather, visibly subdued, his head against the glass. He drifted, stoned, tamed, well-fucked. In so many ways._

_The driver nodded to Pedro, said some words in Spanish. Pedro then sat fully next to Todd and patted his shoulder in approval. He flinched at the touch as if he just woke up._

"_Gloria said you were a gentleman, pleasuring her greatly. My driver said... you did good. They both have no doubt your wife will be a happy woman. A satisfied gentleman is a productive gentleman. A satisfied wife...makes a king out of that gentleman."_

_Todd glared at Pedro. "Who the fuck are you? I mean... WHO the fuck are you?"_

_Pedro sucked on the cigar, sat back into the seats. "To the general public, to my competitors, I am the head of the Mambo Kings, the biggest Cuban organization on the east coast. To you, I am GOD, _tu padre celestial_. I own you, Mr. Manning. You work directly for me now. Everything you do will be for me and MK. You won't have the same freedom as you did in prison, but you will be rewarded far more for your hard work... for as long as you live. You, your family, will all be protected. Your business will be protected. All I ask is complete and total loyalty. You have so far proven that to me... the past three years you have accomplished amazing things. I expect it will continue."_

_Pedro reached out and held Todd's shoulder. "Ernesto was right about you. You are special. You have a gift. God brought you to us, I have no doubt."_

_Todd resumed his empty gaze out the window. He felt the drug still, thanked the devil for it._

"_I like you, Manning. You are... what I have been looking for. Your ideas are fresh, solid. I know I can trust you. Come to the Havana as often as you like. You are a welcome member of MK." Pedro paused, the hard hand giving a squeeze, "I will help you adjust, my friend. Regain your trust of this world. You will see we are decent men." After a moment, Pedro added, "Just so you know, the whores are yours to use. Women, of course, but they are available to you." He handed Todd a package of heroin. "A gift from Gloria. Use it sparingly. This is MK product. The best."_

_The Sun's offices loomed ahead. Todd stepped out of the limo... stood in the cold in the dead of night near his office building as the car drove away, the high fading, his body shivering. He had never felt more trapped in his life. No prison... no cell... no abusive father. He collapsed on the curb and held his head. He sobbed like a baby and found it very hard to stop._

_MK for fuckin' life. Yeah... his only way out was in a coffin. He had known this for a long time, but in that moment he realized he'd been hoping MK would just fade away once he got out of Statesville. He'd been so stupid._

_And so it was...that through weekly lunches and meetings and a strong hand, that the animal grew tamer, calmer, more in control. He became the bastard son of the Mambo Kings, the bastard king-in-waiting._

_And acquired a lifelong debt. _

_Endless fucking debt._

* * *

><p>The Havana Restaurant lit up the small corner of Llanview with light and thumping Latin music. People flowed in and out of the front doors and the smells of good food tempted the neighborhood. Bo Buchanan and Nora Gannon slid back into their booth, laughing and panting from the dance. Nora had no idea this place even existed before tonight. Bo... knew. Unlike Nora, he kept his eyes open, ears open, listening for clues, for hints of the place's dark gang undergrowth.<p>

The past month had been busy in Llanview's criminal justice world. The Statesville Prison had been shut down a month for a full audit - the men only just returning. Heads were rolling, fines were being issued. The corruption had been ugly. On a more personal front, the Feds were hot on MK's trail, in particular the guy who made the deal with Todd. He was breathing down the neck of Bo and getting under his skin.

Manning though... being in lock-up, was mercifully quiet. As was MK. Noticeably quiet. The club where the shooting happened disappeared. Their known gambling seemed to have gone deeper underground. RJ's club was hopping, the Cubans having migrated over there. More curious was the gang fight between the Serranos and Irish seemed to have abated. Not one death in three weeks. At least...no reported or public deaths.

Bo couldn't help but wonder... quietness for exactly the time Manning was locked up.

_Sonofabitch._

As the music played, Bo sipped the dark rum, Nora drinking her own lighter version. They compared notes, enjoying the different tastes. After a short while, she tipped her head in his direction and said, "Okay, Buchanan, why are we here?"

He laughed out loud, always amazed at her ability to read him. She knew him better than he knew himself. She'd waited to ask him once he was loose with liquor. He moved close to her, said quietly, "Mambo Kings, you know them?"

"Yes," she said. "I've sent a few of them to Statesville."

"They operate out of here... I wanted to get a feel for who they are. I want to hear these people, their conversations, I want to see what Cuban nationals might be doing in Llanview."

"You mean, other than dancing and eating?"

Bo chuckled. Nora smiled, glanced around. Returned to him. "You know they're relatively well-behaved. MK. They are not a highly violent gang. Their activities are well... buried. In fact, for the past three years... my prosecutions have been only for low-level crime."

"I know." Bo said, watching her face. They chatted some more, Nora getting in on the observation. Soon, though, she furrowed her brows, dragged her eyes to him. "Is Tea Delgado doing the same thing you are? Or maybe representing someone?"

Bo flipped around to see the entrance. He made a little hissing sound at the sight of Todd and Tea at the hostess's podium... looking hot, dark, serious.

"I thought he was in lock-up...," Bo murmured.

"He's out now."

"Yes he is. What are we looking at?"

What was most impressive was the reaction of many people in the crowd, turning their heads to see Todd and Tea. So much so it was noticeable. Women eyed Tea's silky tight top and black short skirt, her beautiful legs and feet in high heels... her haughty attitude. The men approved, their eyes then giving Todd the once-over, exhibiting a shift in their demeanor. Arms around the women. Eyes at each other. Protective. Todd seemed to represent a threat. Danger. Yeah, that was what was happening. Todd was very important in the Havana and it showed in the crowd. The image of Todd at the number two position in the MK diagram at LPD looked more and more accurate.

"Sonofabitch..." Bo said under his breath, to himself, "Can you really be... the number two man?"

The two disappeared down the hall and Bo dug into the booth, "We're staying a bit longer."

Nora looked dead-hard at him. "What's going on? Why is Todd Manning here?"

Bo looked at his wife, said, "We'll have to wait and see, I suppose." He turned again, feeling the change in the air. Goddamn... no question, Todd Manning was high up in the Mambo Kings. And now Tea in the mix...?

* * *

><p>As they walked to the door of the Havana, Tea held her head up high, walked next to Todd as her own person. She did not touch him in any way. They were not a couple. She found herself in a bit of a fog - what was she doing here? Todd had worked so hard for so long to keep Tea separate from MK and now he was dragging her in front of them like a show-dog. She'd been silent the entire drive over and so was he. He never let on what he wanted.<p>

She needed a drink.

Todd wore dark clothes, black silks, Italian leather jacket that stretched down to mid-thigh and matching Italian shoes. His hair hung loose, swinging with his swagger, streaked silver and white with his experience. Tea wore a tight black skirt, a red silk top cut down low, long platinum chain. Her hair was straight...shimmering brown. She meant business. They both did.

The music bounced along the walls, people moved in and out, the crowd parting for them. Tea did not miss the eyes, the wary glances. Todd hadn't been seen in a while and people did double takes. Tea figured people thought she was his latest whore because the women really checked her out, but she could not SEE what they did. She did not emanate WHORE.

She was his queen and they fucking well knew it.

Leya Moreno was the hostess and her voice betrayed her, trembling with nerves. She couldn't be more than eighteen and she was small as a wisp, but she did not emanate_ child_. She had alluring features, a slender but shapely body, and an energy that called to be rescued. The worst kind of woman for men. And yet... she was amazingly ignored by men. Todd eyed her and Tea caught his slight smile at her. The girl pressed her lips together and murmured, "He was hoping to see you...wasn't sure you'd come, _Blanco_."

"Thank you... um Leya,... this is Tea Delgado, _my wife_." He turned , "Tea, this Leya Moreno."

Tea didn't smile, just looked the girl up and down, icy as hell. It clicked why men ignored her. She was Pedro Moreno's daughter. Nobody would touch this woman. Not without Pedro's blessing and that was probably impossible to gain. Todd smiled a little more and said, "I want her to meet Jed. What you think, Delgado?"

Tea only threw a dagger-filled glance at him before looking down the hall. Todd smirked and said, "My son... he's a pilot. You will love him. He is _worthy_."

The girl smiled, embarrassed, looked at him with open want, innocent, unknowing love. Her words caught in her throat and she cleared it delicately. "My father waits for you. The usual room."

Todd and Tea moved down the hall, leaving behind blatant stares, undoubted gossip hidden by the heavy music.

Tea turned to Todd... "She loves you."

"She doesn't know me."

"No, she doesn't." She paused, stopped Todd. "What am I doing here?"

"I want you to listen. Anything, everything."

"Why are you risking my life here? After so long of hiding... protecting us... I feel like you're throwing me to the wolves."

He reached out and held her shoulder, shook his head, gazing downward, briefly. When he looked at her again, there was fire in his eyes. "Nobody will ever touch you. Nobody would dare cross me. Not like that. They know... better." Behind that heat, though... lurked something unsaid. He evaluated her, judged her.

Tea took a breath, growing suspicious. Still as perplexed as ever. She did not move. "No, this doesn't make sense. Todd... what is going on?"

Pedro interrupted them, having spotted them near the door. He had jumped to his feet, smiling broadly, saying, "My son! _Mi hijo bastardo..." _ He held Todd by the shoulders, looked at him from head to toe and back again. "Yes, yes... you look yourself again." Pedro turned to Tea, stepping back, smiling. "_Senorita Delgado-Manning." _ In classic European style, he kissed her hand and let the compliments flow easily. The remaining men in the room soon resumed their talk and the three sat together at the end of the table.

The sight of Pedro Moreno cooled Tea's fear, and a simmering hatred settled into her, spreading through her like liquor. She remembered her love for her wounded husband, remembered the damage Pedro had inflicted on him... how MK had destroyed his chances for all rehabilitation. MK had stolen Todd's humanity just as much as heroin had, and Statesville. And Peter Manning. Her nerves took a back seat. This man... was the devil, she thought. Tea turned away and glanced at the throng of men in the room. She was the only woman. Everyone threw her respectful glances, not a single bit of curiosity or hostility.

As if they expected her.

A young man came up to her, all at once, surprising her. "_Abogada!" _

Or already knew her.

Tea smiled at her client and she looked at Todd who only raised his eyebrows. A knowing expression crossed his features. He returned to a conversation. Tea and the young man, Hilario, spoke familiarly. She'd represented him last year for a breaking and entering charge. Damn. There were two other men who'd been her client on and off.

Tea had never shared her own connection with MK.

When Todd came back to her, Tea looked up at him. Hissed quietly, "What the hell..."

"Why didn't you tell me you worked for us?"

"I don't work for MK... these men hired me on their own. How dare you ambush me like this." They whispered heatedly.

"Yeah, well... I had no_ fucking_ idea... but then... I did. And then I decided it was time you come with me." He softened. "Maybe... you can get information that I can't."

Tea was angry, too angry to talk. The two mingled. with others. Not too far apart. Food and more drinks came, Tea listening as Todd had asked her to, listening to conversations in spite of her anger at him. She hid her multi-tasking well.

Todd made small talk with Pedro, business not being very high on the list since Tea wasn't formally in the loop. She listened, answered questions here and there, her head elsewhere. Some men moved close to Todd and asked him coded questions... clearly business. The codes were weak and after a while Todd dispensed with the lies. Said, "She's not paying attention to us... just talk."

He was strong, assured, assuring. He had a business approach to everything. Keep to the business plan, he kept saying. That doesn't serve the plan, he said. Drop this, drop that... move this, move that.

_Keep to the plan._

The young man, Hilario, returned to Tea at a moment she was alone, though not too much alone, and she smiled openly. Getting caught up on his life. His activities. They seemed legal. He glanced around, stepped aside, pulled her aside. Inquired about a man... Not MK, he said. "_Abogada..._ he's in bad business. I have been delivering product to him."

"What kind of business?"

He looked around, yelled a smart-aleck comment to someone in Spanish. Said fast under his breath, "Children." He smiled, said some more words and she smiled back. Tea's eyes shot around the room, flew back to him. "What do you mean?"

"Pictures. Tell me what to do. I have a daughter, I cannot keep quiet."

Tea smiled and said a bit louder, "Come see me tomorrow, okay? In my office. I'll help you take care of that parking ticket." He nodded, relief in his eyes, and disappeared into the crowd. Gone.

Tea walked... information in hand. Just in time to hear Todd quietly say to one older man, clearly a peer of Pedro's, "Take him out of the equation." Tea hadn't turned to that. Pedro walked up to her. Todd's words were not meant for her to hear. She kept her eyes on Pedro who was now engaging her in a verbal tour of Cuba, his favorite spots to gaze on the beauty of his homeland. Tea swallowed hard, sucking in a certain... truth. What did he just do?

_Take him out of the equation._

The plates were soon taken, many men left, Tea, Todd, and Pedro soon remaining alone in the room.

"You're well, really well, my friend," Pedro said, clapping a heavy hand on Todd's shoulder. Pedro Moreno was drunk. Tea bit her tongue at the affection, disturbing information already in her lap. Her body hummed with stress, with confusion. She tried to remind herself this was TODD. Not a killer, not a hitman... Todd lit a cigarette and closed his eyes at the relief of the smoke. He slouched a little in his seat. His eyes drooped a little...

"Leya!" Pedro called out and his daughter came in, running back out at the immediate request for Todd's favorite scotch, an expensive brand he favored.

"Macallan... fine liquor, yes?" Pedro directed his words to Tea.

She smiled back at Pedro, "I don't drink whiskey much."

"What do you like, beautiful?"

"Simple: vodka tonic with lime."

"Leya! Once more!"

When Leya returned, Pedro introduced her to Tea. "This is my darling daughter... my jewel." The girl smiled shyly, blushing. "We met outside, Papa." Pedro smiled and said thank you, shooing the girl away, saying to Tea, "I keep her near, she is too daring in this world and not worldly enough to handle the risks she'll take."

"She doesn't seem like a risk-taker."

Pedro glanced at Todd and smiled at Tea, "She hides it well." Tea knew for sure, something had happened with Leya and Todd... there was too much subtext. Tea hated to think she'd become "that" kind of wife... the one who turns her head.

After some time, after easy conversation, Todd sat hunched over his glass, well-steeped in scotch, Tea, in her own drink. Pedro, in his rum. The conversation had drifted to business, in particular to a case involving an MK soldier. Tea offered loose legal advice. "He needs to plea out, Pedro... your lawyer doesn't have a chance at getting that kid off cleanly, legally."

"He's a child..."

"He's a gang member. He got caught with drugs... to sell. Llantano County has low tolerance and will go after him hard, hoping to get YOU."

Pedro laughed, "You should be a district attorney, _mijita."_

"My efforts are better served in my own community. The justice system is hard on Latinos, Blacks... no, I won't serve a biased organization."

"Yes, my god! Isn't that so?"

He sat back and watched Todd. He reached out and patted Todd's arm, "You're tired. Tonight was good, though. The men... they appreciated seeing you. You spoke well to them."

"Yeah," Todd grunted. "I am tired. I need to go." He downed his umpteenth drink. "We're losing ground at the casino, and I don't understand. Are you changing things?" He slurred his words a little. Tea turned to him.

"Losing money?" She said.

"Yeah, fucking money. Fucking profits are down. Way the fuck down." He didn't move, drunk now. Bare. He struck her as being in full MK mode. "Tell me, Pedro, what the fuck is that about?" Tea didn't like his tone. It was ugly. He was not the man she loved.

"We got someone setting up shop too close."

"Who?"

"_Los Serranos."_

"Are you fucking kidding me? They don't do numbers, when did they get into numbers?" Too savage for numbers."

Chuckling, Pedro murmured. "Recently."

"We need to kill that."

"Do we?"

"What?"

Pedro sighed. "I'm tired, Manning. I want out. I have lost the taste for this business."

These were serious words to say in front of Tea. They surprised her. They scared her. "Let's go, Manning," Tea said. Pulling him to his feet. He stood and looked at her coolly. Drunk. He stood close to her, threw an arm around her shoulder.

Todd turned to Pedro, "Call me tomorrow. We'll meet. Deal with the casino."

Pedro nodded, sniffed. Sipped his drink. Lights went off. The restaurant was closing. The music continued. "I am happy to see the two of you. Unified. Strong. You need her, Manning. _El Diablo Blanco_ is not a lone wolf. Your time in prison told me that. You could not be alone. You needed MK, you needed your boys." He laughed quietly, turned his head, "Eh? What would you have done without us? MK saved you, _verdad?_"

Tea placed her hand hard on Todd's chest, surprised at his sudden ire, feeling it in his body rather than seeing it. "Shhhh..." she breathed softly, falling into his body. Against him. Holding him.

"I suppose I'd be dead."

"Yes, you'd be dead. And still in Statesville. You are king here! Look at you, look at you..."

"Goodnight, Pedro."

"Goodnight, my son."

They walked away, and Tea felt Todd leaning on her. "Are you okay?" She asked.

"They ruined me, Delgado."

"You're drunk... let's go home."

"So are you."

"No, I'm not."

They walked slowly across the parking lot, the dark darker than on most nights. No moon it seemed, having disappeared behind clouds. It was cold, and Tea shivered.

"Gimme your keys," Tea said.

Todd dug into his pockets and handed them to her. When he climbed into the passenger seat, Tea started the car and slowly made her way out of the parking lot.

"How did you know I represented MK soldiers?"

"Public information."

"You're a bastard."

"I know."

"Hilario is seeing me tomorrow. He knows someone who deals in child pornography. Delivers product to the guy. No more details on that. Don't know how close this buyer is to MK."

Todd sobered at that. Eyes wide open now.

"Good," he said. "I'll give you everything I know, Delgado. I'm sure this is all one ring. I'm sure of it."

"Does Pedro Mor-"

"No."

His voice was harsh, clipped. Strong. There was no contradicting him. For all Todd's seeming awareness... for his bitterness that MK ruined him, he did not want to consider Pedro's potential complicity in a child pornography ring. And there it was. Pedro was still a father to Todd. And Todd would protect him. Tea swallowed her rage. Said no more. Tomorrow was a new day.

Their house loomed ahead and the soft lights showed the beauty of their place. Todd took it in. Gazed across their property. He sighed but said nothing. Tea stopped the car, though. They both took in the sight of Bo Buchanan in their driveway.

"Fuck..." Todd growled.

Outside the car, Tea and Todd waited.

"Manning... good to see you up and around. Sorry that you're out. Too soon I think."

"What you want, Buchanan?"

Bo sniffed, pulled his coat closer to him. Summer was cool in Pennsylvania. "Time has come, Manning. The Feds are going to knock on your door tomorrow morning. They're arresting you for all kinds of stuff... they want MK and they want it NOW."

**To be continued...**


	32. Chapter 32

**Caged**

Chapter 32

At hearing Bo throw down the final gauntlet with his words, "They're coming for you," Todd sniffed and rubbed his face with his hand; Tea reacted for both, snapping, "What? What are you talking about? Why now? Talk to me!"

Todd stood tall in the moonlight. Expressionless, still, quiet. His mind raced, evaluating every possible approach and every outcome. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a leather cigarette holder and a lighter. He picked out a hand-rolled cigarette, closed the case, shoved it back into his pocket, and lit up, listening to Tea getting increasingly frustrated. He breathed in deeply, blew out the smoke as he eyed Bo. The cigarettes were spiked and while he knew he shouldn't, he felt justified. Hell rained down on him and he had a right to be peaceful.

Had the time come to kill Darryl Warren?

He closed his eyes and focused on the subtle warmth. Hardly a dose at all, but enough to heat his blood. Like hot tea. It ran from head to toe. He gazed at beautiful arguing Tea, her red silky top shimmering in the moonlight, and he knew what he had to do. The red make him think of blood. He'd slit the motherfucker's throat. He'd whisper sweet nothings into Warren's ear about Violet and god knows what other child he'd been raping over the years. The FBI wouldn't get a chance at Warren.

_For the kids, bitch._

He breathed in the smoke, deep into his lungs. Felt himself lifting a little out of himself, up into the bloody fantasy. He'd jerk off on Warren's dying body. How's it feel? How's it taste?

_Me cago en ti, __coño. Fuck you._

Tea now talked with her hands, her voice tight, intense, her eyes revealing a distinct fear of the unknown. She wasn't ready. She hadn't processed his sudden presence and the sudden confrontation with the FBI. He'd come home from rehab too soon, surprising her. Would they go to witness protection? Would he go to prison? Would they be killed by MK? She turned a moment to him and they connected. He smiled a little but... like sometimes happened... his face didn't work that way. He breathed in hard, trying like fucking mad to get high.

_Yeah, beautiful woman of mine, you love me. I am your heroin. I'm so bad for you... but fuck... you want to get high again. _

He moved close to her, a hand touching the edges of her hair, and she looked at him briefly, a confused look on her face. She went back to arguing.

Todd studied the house, her hair running through his fingers, the hum of her body reverberating through him. He gazed back at the windows of the house, the stars above. The brightened windows to the living room.

_Sonofabitch._

He said softly, "Are they inside my house, Buchanan?"

Bo and Tea continued arguing over some minute point that he could not grasp. "Hey... hey... HEY!"

They both finally stopped.

"Buchanan, are those bastards in my house?"

Tea shot a look at the house and suddenly realized lights were on that shouldn't have been.

"Are you KIDDING ME?! Bo!"

"You're out of time, Manning," Bo said. "They have warrants... they want to tear apart your house but are willing to talk first."

Tea continued her shocked ranting, her hand reaching out to Todd protectively, her body shifting in between Todd and Bo, "This is bullshit! Where's George? He can't be unrepresented, you know that!" She wanted to hit Bo in effigy. Todd felt her desire and grabbed her in his arms, holding her back. She moved like a wild animal. He whispered, "It's okay, girl, it's okay. Don't be afraid."

She panted and rested in his arms... "Todd... god damnit."

Bo shook his head, "I wanted to warn you. I thought we had more time."

"Why bother with the warning?" Todd asked. He pressed his mouth against Tea's warm head. Held her tight to him. She squirmed, pulled away from him. "I'm fine... let go. Please."

Glancing down a moment, Bo responded, "Consider it a family courtesy."

Nodding, he then looked hard at the commissioner. "You know what... bring it on. I'm ready." Tea moved fast in front of him, grabbing his hard, ungiving biceps.

"Let's GO," she spat, "This is why Bo is here, telling us we can get in our car and get the hell out. We can meet with George, we can-" Bo didn't dispute her interpretation of the warning.

"Delgado, let's get inside. Let's give them what they need. It's time." He'd been intensely looking at her, saying what nobody else could hear. She knew what he meant but had really wanted George Strauss here. "Your lawyer..."

"He'll come," Todd said. He was disappointed really. His plan had been to show Warren the video and then kill him with his bare fucking hands. Now it would be paperwork. An arrest of Warren. Shit. Disappointment stabbed at his chest.

But he had no choice.

"Fine." She had no idea what exactly Todd was intending at this point other than to show his cards regarding Violet. That would throw a stick in the spokes of the federal case against Todd. She dialed George's number, got into a hushed conversation. Todd tossed his cigarette aside and reached to open the door to their house, feeling intensely violated and beyond angry at the nerve of these people to come into his house. It was bullshit, to be sure. But he had what he needed. He felt confident this was going to go exactly how he expected. Not what he wanted... but shit would work out in his favor.

Before Todd could actually open the door, Tea pulled him away, asking desperately, "Are you sure?" She held his face in between her hands, catching his hazel eyes in the driveway light. He nodded slightly, watching her. His hands held her around her waist. Bo moved away a moment, answering a phone call. She looked hard at him and then shut her eyes briefly. Whispered thickly, "Oh my god... are you_ high_?"

He reached for her, touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "Not enough to do anything."

Tea's eyes welled with tears... "Shit... oh god... shit..." She shut down the emotion quick. Let him go. Cursing under her breath. "Don't touch me."

"Forget it... we got bigger things to deal with. And no... it wasn't with a waitress." He smiled at her... sort of. But she wouldn't look at him. Yeah, he was fucking it all up. Sobriety. Didn't last five minutes out. He'd been so good... _in lockup. _

Todd made a motion towards the door, and Tea followed. Behind them, Bo walked, having no idea what was on the mind of Todd Manning. Whoever knew?

The house wasn't brightly lit, but there was enough light to reveal five men sitting on couches, all of them standing up at the sight of the Mannings, all of them feds. Cells got put away and the hum of conversation stopped dead. Typical of g-men, they all wore the same color slacks with white shirts and ties. Different colored faces, but all the same. Darryl Warren was at the center looking like a fucking cat who ate a canary. Promotion was all over him. They were all armed, heavy glocks in their side holsters. Dull and dangerous. Two of them had handcuffs, too.

Todd bit down hard at the sight of Warren, finding himself unable to look away. It took everything in him not to jump over the coffee table and take that motherfucker down. He had to breathe to stop the images of repeated stabbing, tearing him apart. Without thought Todd adjusted his cock... too much adrenaline, too much rushing blood. _Fuck..._

Darryl looked immediately ill at ease, feeling the heat. He wanted Manning afraid and wasn't getting what he wanted.

The lead guy stepped forward, "Name's Benicio Juarez, I'm the captain of the FBI's organized crimes division. You're under arrest, Mr. Manning, for your significant gang activities like illegal gambling, drug trafficking..."

"Extortion?" Todd spoke but his eyes didn't leave Warren.

They all quieted, Juarez nodding thoughtfully, warily... "Yeah, and the murder of Jessie Horenda."

Todd lifted his chin, glaring a moment at Juarez, "Horenda... of course." He resumed his stare at Darryl Warren, unmoving, cooly. Darryl spoke up, "All these things can go away for you if you give up Pedro Moreno and the rest of MK. We've been waiting a long time for this."

"Lay out your evidence, gentlemen," Bo said. "What do you have?"

What proceeded was nothing new. Tea stood and listened to what her husband did for a living aside from the newspaper. She had to keep tears in check, her mind returning to his high; her mind facing this horrific reality of who her husband was, of where she'd be sleeping the next nights, where her children would be. She found herself reaching for him, holding his arm again, holding it like she could keep the truth from killing him, her, and their family. The portrait wasn't surprising but it was ugly - local gambling right under all their noses, an active drug network that consisted of the importation of heroin, cocaine, and marijuana, along with the corresponding distribution using local gangs. Not to mention the prostitution.

"Sounds like a bad mafia movie... but so far you ain't talkin' 'bout me." He'd finally eyed Juarez.

The captain then tossed a slew of pictures across the coffee table... black and whites... they spread like a card game. Todd's comings and goings, with Rolon, with known MK members, in and out of clubs. The coup de gras were the six or so shots of him hanging with Pedro Moreno. Cool, intense, serious business.

"Why Mr. Manning, you're the right-hand man to Pedro Moreno, the current head of the Mambo Kings. We see you're the organizer, the information guy, the one who calls lots of shots. We've got taped conversations and an email account. You negotiate on behalf of MK. You put MK on the map of mainstream gang activity. We want it all to end. Warren here has you by the short hairs. Give up MK's connection to the illegal activity and you get out of jail free for all of it. Show us the lines from the blackjack and poker rooms to Moreno's majority ownership of Slinga Internet Games. Show us the flow of money from MK's heroin trade to Lorenzo Jewelry Stores. Horenda will disappear and so will your fingerprints on all MK business. Give him up, Manning, or you're up for the death penalty."

Tea and Bo were quiet, Tea checking her phone. No need to talk now. They were buying time for George to arrive. Todd got another cigarette. Another hand-rolled. It looked like a joint. He lit it, puffed away. He grinned slightly at Juarez through the smoke. Tea cursed under her breath.

"Just like that, it'll all go away?" he said.

"Just like that."

"And wouldn't you just love it to be so fuckin' easy?"

"Real easy, Manning."

Shaking his head, puffing out the smoke, Todd growled, "I don't think so."

Darryl's head spun, shaking his head, "What? WHAT?"

Todd bit down and glared, a dark grin across his face, "I. Don't. Think so."

In a flash, Darryl moved and jumped forward, grabbing Todd by the shirt, the hand-rolled falling to the floor. "You'll get the injection, ya goddamned bastard! You get that?!" All the men mobilized, moving over furniture to break them up, but Todd pushed Darryl hard, the guy tripping back, falling backwards onto his ass. Spitting, ranting, as he got back up, Darryl yelled, "You'll have to lie on that bed, saying goodbye to your family, to everything you know. I was THERE. I fuckin' saw the whole thing, heard the plans, I know it all! You will DIE YOU BASTARD!"

Juarez, along with Bo, threw himself against Todd who jumped right back at Darryl. They both strained, Bo cussing at the incredible strength Manning had, "Jesus... Manning... come on!" Juarez just groaned with the effort at keeping Todd back. One of the Feds pulled Tea out of the way, far back. Todd wanted at Darryl bad and made no bones about it, growling like an animal, his eyes and face full of crazy hate. He wanted to strangle Warren. He would and the men knew it.

"FUCK you, Manning, FUCK YOU!"

"Nahhh... fuck YOU! You say you know it all?! You know everything Horenda was doing?" The men pushed hard. Tea called to him but he was focused on Darryl. "Yeah, I bet you know every last bit of Horenda's fun. Bet you were fuckin' THERE. You might have your evidence... but it's going up in flames." Todd laughed a little hysterically, finally, the fight stopping at last. He shook off the men, grinning insanely at the panting Darryl. "You're so fucked, Warren. Hear me? DEEPLY TRULY. FUCKED."

Warren shook his head, clearly confused. He had everything in order. Manning made no sense.

The door opened to George Strauss huffing and puffing and looking like he just rolled out of bed. In his hands were files and DVD's. He shook his head at Todd, "Why the hell you do these things in the middle of the night?"

Juarez was still out of breath, "Now who the hell are YOU?!"

"Ahh... sorry, I'm George-" He fumbled more with the stuff, shoving all the black and white pictures off the coffee table to make room for the laptop and files. "George Strauss, Manning's attorney. Pleasure."

The Feds glanced at each other, Darryl crossing his arms, panting still, looking skeptical, and the smallest bit of worry playing on his forehead. He growled, "Lawyering up ain't gonna change shit. We got you cold on Horenda for first degree. You'll get the death penalty, Manning."

George glanced up, smiled shortly at Warren. "That right?"

Now Warren looked flat-out worried.

Tea moved near Todd and she could feel the fire burning still, his whole body shaking with desperate self-control. "Fuckin' punk-ass-bitch... George... play them... play 'em now before I catch another murder case."

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Darryl said. Juarez turned to George. "What you got there?"

George put up a finger in the air, telling them all to be patient. He fumbled with a laptop computer, turning it on. He logged in. Clicked on files. Soon the thing lit up blue, a video player. Static played.

"Here we are," George mumbled.

Suddenly there was Violet, little ten year old Violet. Her eyes dark and haunted, long stringy hair falling, framing her face, as she stared into the camera. She was sitting on a bed, it seemed. Behind her was a person, face out of camera range, bare stomach, on his knees... sliding the straps of her little sundress off her shoulders. He pulled the top of the dress down revealing her bare chest. He then adjusted himself, sliding her onto his lap, rubbing her all over him. She moved like a doll, spaghetti limbs, no fight in her. He was huffing and puffing and groaning. He lifted her and pulled off her dress revealing her to be nude. When he flipped her over onto her stomach... a glaring tattoo showed on his upper arm... Philadelphia's liberty bell adorned with the year he joined the FBI as undercover. He proceeded to plunge into the girl, raping her. She tried fighting at first, then just cried.

Tea turned away, sick to her stomach, realizing Todd hadn't seen this, not the actual video and if she was sick... but Todd watched Daryl. Never looking at the screen. The men in the room hardly breathed. Another man called Waresky cussed, "The fuck is this shit? The FUCK?!" Daryl was taking a step backwards. He knew. He saw himself. The other men started to look at him. They knew that tattoo. One of the guys drew his gun, shook his head, shocked eyes firing between Daryl and the horrific scenes on the laptop.

The man on the screen finally looked right at the camera. Darryl Warren's face stared at all of them. "Isn't she a peach," he groaned, humping away.

Bo murmured, "Turn this off. My god."

Someone said, "Hand your sidearm over to the captain, Warren."

"That isn't me!" Warren screamed, the voice the same as the one groaning on the video, "God yes bitch god yes...take my cock inside your tiny hole..."

Bo shouted, "SHUT THAT OFF!" George did so.

Juarez walked towards Darryl and aimed his weapon center-mass. Darryl raised his arms, "That isn't ME!"

"You stay right the fuck THERE and hand over your WEAPON!" Darryl did, knowing the jig was up. "Cuff him so he can't move," Juarez spat.

"That isn't me..."

George, smiled, "All good? I'll continue now." He quickly eyed Todd. Shot him a warning look. He didn't want the kid shot for being a hot-head.

Acting like the absent-minded professor, he then flipped videos. This was a new one. Violet today, Violet now. Todd dragged his eyes away from the ranting Warren and watched her, his jaw tight. Everything faded in his head. He stared at her face. She answered questions from George. She was abrasive, rebellious. She looked right at the camera. The woman who'd raped him. Who'd become a sexual predator in her own right. He caught his breath and looked at Tea and she saw the fear in his eyes, childlike, and he looked around and picked up the still-burning hand-rolled off the floor. He shook visibly. Puffed at it. Got it going again. The small amount of heroin wasn't enough to keep pictures out of his head. Not just of her.

This was a deposition, dated mere days ago. She'd been at George's office. Walking around. Talking. Alive. She finally said, "The man who raped me over and over and made them movies of him and me, his name was Darryl Warren. He liked me. He gave me these videos cuz I liked to watch them. He told me he was in the FBI." She smiled at the camera. "I'm all over the internet today... I can find myself in those special places that men like. They call me... little Violetta. Ain't that somethin'? Like Eur'pean... or somethin'. Violetta..."

Tea had moved close to Todd, the PTSD alive and well. She could feel him shaking, could see he was sweating, his gaze dark and unmoving from Darryl Warren again who was now in cuffs and being held hard in place by Juarez.

Waresky put his weapon back into the holster and another Fed boomed from across the room, "What the fuck do you want, Manning? That shit looks bad, but it isn't enough yet. You could have faked it. She's probably a big goddamn liar."

"Exactly RIGHT!" Warren yelled desperately,

Todd didn't answer, Tea thinking he really couldn't talk now. He was using every bit of himself to stay calm and not kill something, not fall to pieces, not cry like a child. He bent and put the cigarette out on a plate on the coffee table. Stood tall and looked at George.

George put a pause on the video, two frozen pictures of Violet staring out from the screen. "Manning wants the federal case against him on ice, gentlemen. How far do Warren's activities go? How many Feds knew about this shit and paid money for this shit? How HIGH up does it go? Manning has information on a massive child porn ring with FBI cover-up all over it. He can hand that information to you... or go public with it. You thought the Secret Service bouncing whores in Colombia was bad?"

Juarez stewed... "Gimme more specifics."

"He has names. He has a connection that can drop a guy right at the center of the party. This is big... hundreds of kids... beyond pictures. We're talking major trafficking. Might be international."

"We still have him on Horenda and drug distribution."

George exploded, "Are you kidding?! Hahaha! He ALLEGEDLY killed a fuckin' PEDOPHILE! You want to make THAT shit public? That he protected KIDS in state prison who were being raped by that motherfucker while guards did nothing? That he had to kill the guy, ALLEGEDLY, because nobody in charge would stop Horenda and meanwhile you FEDS were covering up inside connections to a child trafficking ring? That what you want?! I'll call the Banner right now, hell, I'll call the fuckin' NEW YORK TIMES. GO ahead, ARREST HIM."

The room deadened worse than a morgue. Silence. Another Armageddon. Warren began to whimper.

Todd cleared his throat and asked in a syrupy voice that harkened back to Brandy... he was the whore talking, "What you want, Juarez, what you want?" Tea heard it and reached for him, held his hand... wanted to pull him to her.

_I'm sorry, I'm so sorry people hurt you. _

He didn't respond to her. He drifted, she could see.

Juarez stared at Warren, cussed, "You fuckin' piece of shit..."

Warren whimpered more, "It's not me, I promise you..." Juarez turned and punched Warren hard in the face, "Shut the fuck up..." Warren had fallen back, but got pushed back onto his feet by Waresky. The whimpering continued.

Then Juarez turned and pointed at Todd. "Don't you fuckin' leave town. We'll talk. This isn't over." Turned to Waresky, "Throw that bastard in the tank... no lawyers yet."

The men left with their files, leaving a few choice pictures of a deadly-looking Blanco on the table, leaving a stunned Bo Buchanan behind. George packed up the mess on the coffee table. The door slammed shut. No cars because they'd all parked around the corner from the house.

The attorney nodded, eyed his client, "You okay, Manning?"

Todd rubbed his mouth and walked to the couch, collapsing on it. He stretched his legs and lifted his ass to get at the cigarette case. Pulled out another cigarette. Lit up. Still shaking in a combination of horror, memory, rage, repressed murder. He smoked and George sat next to him - took the hand-rolled away. Todd let it go easily.

George said in a low voice, "You fuckin' kidding? I can _smell_ the shit in this."

Shrugging, Todd looked at his lawyer. "Fuck you. I'm entitled."

"No you're not. You need to be HERE, man. You get me?"

Tea came up and said, "I already know... go home George. We bought time." Bo wandered back in the room and sat on the couch. The shock was still on his face.

"How long you been sitting on that information, Manning?"

Todd glanced at him, shrugged, "Not that long." He sniffed and gazed beyond everyone. He worked to remember his sponsor's number. This was bad, seeing Violet in the here and now was bad for him. He completely worked out in his head how he was going to shoot up. And he knew that fantasy was very dangerous because it was too real.

"Buchanan, George," he said softly, "I'd be the best undercover person to get to the top of that ring. I'm MK, I got a reputation among these people... they think I'm one of them because of my protection of the youngest kids in Statesville."

Tea shook her head violently, "No, no, no... NO! Todd... don't even think about it, dear god you are not strong enough. Not anywhere close to strong enough for such a thing." He scared her. They'd been here before... he nearly died chasing Phillip Manning. Going back into the hell. She was shaking now, sick now. "Todd... just seeing that girl made you want to use... just SEEING her. Tell me I'm wrong..."

He looked at her, "I'm the best one to do the job."

When Todd said things... they happened. She could feel it, could see it. He'd been thinking about this for a long while. He didn't look at her.

Bo nodded, lost in the possibility. George stopped arranging things and sat on a chair. Sighed heavily. Todd had already made serious inroads into the ring. Collecting information, names, places. But he hadn't made it to the top yet. And yeah, he was the best one. It would take months and months to get a Fed to where he was right now.

"One phone call," Todd said, "and I'll get a meeting to get videos, get an actual kid. I can then make noise that I want in on profits. I can show that I'm successful... I know that I can get to the top. I know it."

His voice wasn't the same, it was soft, he was high. He could hardly bear seeing Violet... without falling into himself. Tea could see the need for his relief all over him. But his mind was made up. He was in argument mode. He didn't really need approval. But help from the FBI would be good.

They'd want this more than MK. They had way more to lose. FBI on top of a child porn ring... not good public relations.

George said, "Manning, let's talk tomorrow. Stay off the shit."

Bo glanced at Tea sadly. "He's right, Tea. The FBI will let go of MK."

"What about you, Bo?"

He just shook his head, walking away.

The men left, leaving Todd and Tea alone. She got up and straddled him. Tears ran down her face, helplessly. "I hate you... I hate you."

"I have to do this. I'm the best one. I'm already there. Nobody has to work or build a character or anything. I'm already in."

"Todd please... please..."

* * *

><p>Benicio Juarez hadn't quite gotten home when he got a call from George Strauss. He pulled over and listened. He listened to the potential and knew Manning was the best and fastest way to kill the child porn ring. There was a lot the Feds could do for Manning that he couldn't do on his own. Recordings, phone taps, quick saves of the kids, a certain amount of protection as he worked his way up the ladder. They could create fake profits from fake sales of porn and kids. They could pick up lower level people and get them off the streets. Quietly. Securely. All protecting Manning's efforts.<p>

"There's one problem..." George said.

"Spill it."

"Manning's a pretty deep-in heroin addict - comes from his own horrific past with this kind of shit."

"He was abused."

"Yes. This is high fuckin' risk. He sees too much, loses a kid... he could go fuckin' nuclear and either kill someone or overdose. He ain't real stable... to understate it."

"Could he hurt kids?"

"Hell no. That's GUARANTEED. He don't swing that way."

"Well... undercover can be rough. We have support. We certainly could make sure he's getting help, but... Strauss... as long as he isn't putting the entire operation at risk, we really don't give a shit about CI's. We use addicts, crazy people, sick people, hell, we use the worst of the worst. If they die or do unspeakable shit, they're on their own. We disappear. You know that."

"Yup."

"So really, this is up to him and all of you. We still have him for Horenda. We still have plenty of MK shit on him. He's facing a whole lot of prison time no matter. I mean, in all truthfulness, he probably won't get the needle because he killed one sick bastard when the Statesville warden had his head up his ass... he saved kids for god's sake... but... he's still facing serious time."

"Let's talk detail in the morning. Get me everything you can do. I want you to lay out the entire potential operation and I want a full immunity deal. That work for you?"

"I'll need more time - I'll call you in the next couple of days. I will say this... Darryl Warren's in deep deep shit. That was no photoshop bullshit, I know that. Made me sick. And scared as hell. I got a lot to think about on how I want to do this. I'm not sure who I can trust. Keep Manning from going AWOL in the meantime?"

"Yup, will do."

Juarez hung up. Sat and watched the edge of the sunrise from the side of the road. He'd been doing organized crime a long time and hadn't come across this before. Not on his watch. Tried to unsee the rape of Violet and the image of a fairly well-respected agent doing the raping. Lots of questions, lots of questions. Not a single answer.

"God damnit..."

* * *

><p>Tea's uncomfortable sleep was disturbed by Todd having a nightmare. They'd gone to bed fighting badly, arguing about his crazy idea to go undercover. She was desperate, terrified. And even though she felt so far away from him, she found herself arguing love.<p>

Don't go because I love you, she yelled. You have a family, you're still so sick with addiction - this WILL kill you, baby!

_My addiction isn't going anywhere, Delgado._

She argued, With more time in the hospital, you have a chance at beating it. Let the police do this. Give them the information... you're too fragile...

_If you love me, then accept me doing this. I have to!_

She yelled, This is all to avoid prosecution of Pedro Moreno! Do you know what _Pedro _means?! PETER! In the end, you're protecting PETER MANNING! You dumb bastard!

He shut down at that. Cursed a "fuck you, you fuckin' bitch of a woman..." He then stormed towards her, pulled her to him, tight, hard, violently, hot words in her ear, "You will never understand... you were never raped as a child. You cannot understand, ever. You can love me, fight for me... but you don't walk in my shoes. You will NEVER know this hurt. So don't analyze me, don't judge me, don't fucking TALK to me." He pushed her away. Not hard, but enough to make a point.

She'd overstepped boundaries.

_So sorry, so so sorry._

He went to bed. Slammed the door, shutting her out. She left him alone, sleeping in a guest room down the hall. She'd cried herself to sleep like a helpless petulant child. Like the weakest of human beings. He was right, she'd never understand.

And then she woke to him crying out. She ran to their room and saw him fighting the sheets. He thrashed and tried to scream, his voice caught up in an obvious hell. Tea tried to wake him by calling his name to no avail and knew it was dangerous to get too close so she sat on the chair and just watched him. She'd given him that dream, maybe, by mentioning Peter. Or maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Peter just lurked there all the time. Or maybe the sounds of Violet's rape. Or maybe seeing her give testimony.

She kept her hand on her mouth to stop from crying. He fought the attacker a long time, fought hard, muscles jerking and straining. Choking from not being able to breathe. He shot up awake at last and then just sobbed into the pillow. Deep hard wracking sobs that shook his body and veered close to screaming. He moved and writhed on the bed, fighting the sorrow and terror. He went on for a long time saying words that Tea could not understand and Tea felt maybe, hopefully, he was releasing a lot of pent up stuff but then realized maybe he was just showing what it was like to be him. This was his hell on the outside of his mind, on the outside of his body. This was what was normally on the inside, covered up by anger and meanness and cussing and the heroin high. He finally calmed and soon his breathing grew normal.

Tea walked slowly to the bed, the night's blue light fading and the edge of the sun coming through the curtains.

He just lay there, staring into the new light. He didn't move or respond to her. He'd disassociated as a way to cope. She'd seen it once before. Someone in his dreams had hurt him deeply and his brain shut everything down to recuperate. She caressed his hair, his cheek, and spoke Spanish to him, a song really. A song she sometimes sang to her children. He was wet with sweat. She got up and got a washcloth, cool with water. She came back and rubbed his neck, his back. His arms. She cooled the washcloth again and did his legs. He didn't react or move or talk or even blink. Stared blankly, stared into the vast emptiness. His lips were parted... he looked blissfully empty.

She finally tossed the towel and scrunched low next to him to get into his field of vision. Looked at his distant eyes a while. Finally said, "I love you. I wish I could keep you safe from those monsters. How can I when the danger is in your own head? In your dreams? They attack you when you're at your most vulnerable, _verdad?_"

He focused on her at last, blinking, and tears rolled down his cheek. She reached to wipe them away and he jerked hard at her touch, his eyes open wide, fear renewing, and she knew he could not be touched right now. Every touch would be a violation, a re-living of his nightmare. He was here again, the disassociation having passed, but he still was too afraid to move or talk.

"_Amor, _you do what you have to do. I know that fighting your choice, your decisions, doesn't do much. So... you have my blessing. Promise me, though, that you will think of us when things get too hard, too painful, when the nightmares threaten to destroy you. Think of us... please? I don't want to lose you to Peter Manning."

He stared at her, at her features, for the longest time. She wanted to touch him... but didn't. Keeping him safe from the pain of being touched. He squeezed shut his eyes and curled up tight. Fell asleep again. Slept a long time while Tea lay next to him, awake... afraid. The sun poured into the room, beautiful, full of promise.

Safe.

Bad things don't happen in daylight, doncha know?

**To be continued...**


	33. Chapter 33

**Caged**

Chapter 33

He spent the longest time watching her sleep. He remembered that he said awful things to her when all she wanted was him to be safe and healthy and free. He remembered being in breathtaking pain, ripped to pieces inside and out, and wailing to an empty soulless universe. He remembered a little of her singing to him, then simply lying beside him.

_I am sorry._

Three of the most meaningless words ever. He pulled the sheets up, the blanket, covering her cool body. She looked deeply peaceful on her side, her skin soft, her features beautiful, delicate, perfect. He bent and breathed in her delicate warm scent, a loving ache bursting inside of him. Kissed her shoulder. He lay next to her for a while longer, trying not touch her, hearing her soft breaths. She didn't move, didn't stir. Out cold. He was thankful. Hoped she'd be rested. She'll need it. His plans... they will tax her soul, right to the core.

_SO so sorry._

Todd got out of bed, naked as the day he was born, pulled clothes from the drawers, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, his cell phone, and dragged himself to the bathroom. Closed the door. Locked it. Something he rarely did. Leaving the door unlocked was meant to be a public attestation that he wasn't shooting up. Been living that way since before Statesville. Locked it anyway…

It was near noon, kids still at Viki's. Tea had collapsed, beyond exhausted from her completely undeserving vigil. He'd been pretty fucked up last night... let out of the hospital too soon, he agreed fully. He probably needed a year in lockup. Actually, he was sure of it. His addiction was going to kill him... and he just volunteered, nay, _insisted_ on doing something that was nothing short of suicide. How would he ever be able to face child abuse in its ugliest form and not use dope? How could he be holed up maybe with horrific images on a computer screen and not be high just to maintain a cover with some pedophile? Or… god, what if he had to look again at the very real face of a child… brought to him? Like Diego? The mere thought of those possibilities made him want the needle harder than he wanted it back in the day with Brandy.

Not just that. Darryl was now sitting in a cell somewhere, _un-killed_, _un-mutilated_… and he so needed to be made dead. The fact that Todd could not do it… that he had to hold onto the hate, the blind need for revenge, made him insane. Same way it made him insane when he couldn't kill Horenda. And look where that got him.

Stupid. Dumb. Yeah, Tea said it, _dumb bastard. _Fragile as glass.

But he was already making his way, man! Down the deepest, darkest, most terrifying rabbit hole. Already following cookie crumbs into the darkest forest. Slowly over the past year he'd been on the trail of Manuel Caro. Learning bits and pieces. He had a number to call... code words to say. Another guy, someone off an anonymous email, had made contact with him, asking..._ "are you interested? A little birdy says you are."_

He was ready. No, not _ready,_ not _ready_ by a fucking longshot, but rather in a perfect position to get to the top. And yeah, the revelation of Darryl Warren had done what it was meant to do after all: it killed the Horenda case against Todd and kept MK safe and protected. The moment Violet had told him about the movies, Todd knew he was free. Pedro Moreno would live to see another day as the head of the Mambo Kings, fat cat on Wall Street. Legitimate as all fuckin' get-out. Yeah, don't get started on the stress that fucking MK brought him. Images of his babies popped into his head. His beautiful children...

He sniffled... murmuring a congratulations to himself and lit a cigarette. Yeah, yeah... congratulations, smart guy, clever guy. Ain't you the winner! Whoooo for Todd Manning, raise the roof...

_I have a young boy, Mr. Manning. Are you interested? A little birdy says you are._

The stress was too much. Too many arrows firing at him from all directions so he did what he always did to settle his brain, to short-circuit the deafening, racing thoughts in his head. He lowered the cigarette and pressed it to the delicate skin of his inner thigh.

Did it there so no one would see. Correction: so Tea wouldn't see.

He jerked at the pain, but kept the stick there longer than he could stand it, water coming to his eyes. He finally pulled it off, his mouth open in a silent scream, his eyes shut tight, his breath cut off by the pain. He leaned against the counter, panting a little, reveling in the slight high he'd get from doing that. When it passed, and his body regained normalcy, he cursed himself, consumed by a powerful wave of guilt.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck... grow the fuck up, Manning._

He stuck the cigarette into his mouth and checked his iPhone. The pain had done its job. Quieted his mind. He felt soothed. Ass against the countertop, he read email, tapped out short responses. Scrolled through an article that needed his approval. The cigarette was good, but not good enough because before long he was reading words over and over and not comprehending anything. Actively fighting a powerful craving to get high. The true heart of addiction.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck..._

Scrolled through his contacts. Looked at every smack number he had in there. The hospital had said to delete them... he never got around to it. There'd be someone waiting on him. One call... and he'd have everything he needed. Leaned back and smoked, watching the smoke. He had spiked cigarettes but that wasn't enough. He paced the large bathroom, looking at the numbers. Now, he murmured the words aloud, fuck, fuck, fuck... and it hurt deeply. He could feel the spike, could feel the high… even imagined Jovana touching him, giving him the boost to the boost...

Cope, he said. Cope. Meditate. Get over it. GROW UP. Be a fucking MAN. A flood of pictures then suddenly engulfed him, dark terrifying sick images. While he hadn't watched Violet on the video, he'd heard her cries, he heard Warren's sexual ecstasy. He saw her in his head now, fucking him at his office, riding him...felt the confusion of it... the sickening good feel beyond his control, how he just lay there because he was just a boy, powerless, helpless. His body not his own. Totally and completely unable to fight.

_Call me daddy!_

With the barest of warnings, he turned, dropped to his knees and threw up, thankfully making the toilet. He spit the last, flushed, and crumpled onto the floor. Lay there like a possum. Got up after a bit and washed his mouth out. Stared at his ugly mug a while.

_Are you interested? A little birdy says you are._

He knew so much about how to cope with his PTSD, with his addiction, and still, his mind was like a horse returning to the stable. _Heroin._ He shook his head, forcing himself to remember those dark days with Brandy. Remember, remember. The sickness, the desperation, the dirty world he crawled around in. He wasn't even himself back then, crazy beyond words. But then he'd instantly remember the relieving high. Remembered not too long ago in that motel. Man, he hadn't done the needle in such a long time and it gave him exactly what he was looking for. Soulful peace. Deep inside, the roiling hell finally would stop.

_Fuck._

Enough, he said, ENOUGH. He turned the shower on, got in. People to see, shit to do. He had a fucking crime syndicate to operate.

That and Ty Jerome wanted to see him. What the fuck ever for?

_Sonofabitch._

When he emerged from the bathroom, dressed, looking decent, Tea was just awake, still lying down, the sheets and blanket down at her waist. "Where are you going?" Her voice was soft, scratchy, still affected by sleep. She licked her lips and squinted.

"See Ty at his kennel." They studied each other. A million words unsaid.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Last night… was rough."

"Yeah, yeah… sorry. Um…" he paused a moment, rubbing his face, passing a hand through his hair. "The whole thing...blindsided me. Didn't expect to deal with Darryl Warren, or to see that… to see Violet again." He cleared his throat, looked away from her. "What about you," he said, returning to her, "you okay? How much do you hate me?"

She shook her head, not answering him. She looked beautiful in the morning light, the sheets barely covering her. Her breasts looked soft and creamy under nightgown. He suddenly wanted to make love to her. Wanted to touch her, taste her, get deep inside of her. Fuck her until she screamed. He turned a little to hide his hard-on, the tightening in his balls. Ashamed. He couldn't stop thinking about it. She hated him, how could she not? Yet all he wanted was her.

"I don't hate you," she murmured, rubbing her eyes. She still felt sleepy, but needed to see him, to see he was okay even though the idea was preposterous. How could any of them be okay? They were living in a mad, mad world. He just exhausted her. She breathed in deeply. Gazed back at him. "I'm worried about you," she said. She could see the stress on his face, his stance. He was energy about to pop.

He shook his head, trying to say not to worry, then spat, "I gotta go." Turned, walked quickly…but Tea called to him.

"Please talk to me," she said. Her voice carried out the door - she worked to be heard. Too tired to be yelling so all her emotion flew to him in that gentle tone. Hit by love, love he didn't expect. How could she not hate him beyond all reason? He stopped cold in his tracks three steps from the stairs. He turned.

"I'm a piece of shit, Tea. What's there to say?"

"Please come here. Just talk to me. I need you to talk to me."

He swallowed and moved to the doorway of the bedroom, held the door. Like he needed it to stand.

"You look tired, _amor,_" she said. Her Spanish made him weak and he glanced at the ground a second before returning her gaze.

She then asked, _"__A dónde vas?__" _ Her eyes asked much more than the literal. Where are you going? She reached beyond the moment. Where was he headed now? Where would he end up at the end of this story? Where were they all going? There were no easy answers to that very simple question.

He moved towards her and she held her arms open, "_Vente_. _Acuéstate conmigo_. _Hablar conmigo._"

Come, she said, lie down with me. Talk with me.

He looked away, a swell of emotion rising inside of him. He needed her in his life. He'd die without her. That was the truth. No matter the horrible things they seemed to do to each other, the profound disregard of dignity, of vows, of… their history, he would die.

He got on the bed and got up against her, letting her hold him, his eyes closing at the feel of her. He breathed out hard, like he'd been running and finally reached the finish line. He grabbed onto her, tight, tight. Would he leave this for MK, for drugs? Maybe… sure… that was the messed up addict talking. Todd Manning, though, well… he would die here. Right here. He'd never need food, water, even air. Just her…

He wished it could happen. A sudden death. Here. The relief was palpable.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's okay."

She let him climb all over her, feeling how hard he was, how ready. How desperate. He pulled at the blankets and sheets to get to her. She wrapped her legs around him and stripped him of his shirt. He kicked off his shoes. He kissed her neck and moved to her waiting mouth. He reached down and unbuttoned, lifting her gown, pulling at her panties. He got inside of her, thrusting hard. He moved quickly, but then rolled over, moving her on top of him. She moved her hips, using his cock well, moving until she gasped quietly and her hands tightened on his hair. They kissed hard and he rolled her over again, getting leverage, fucking her like he wanted. She grabbed the headboard with one hand, the other around his neck, and felt his face against hers, hearing his hard breaths, no words… just the sound of raw sex.

For a moment she tried to imagine his life, his past. She knew the root of his troubled life lay in the child abuse he suffered. As he moved inside of her, she tried to imagine what it would be like to be raped. He had described how he'd go away in his head when it had happened to him as a child. But now that she tried, she couldn't do it… how could anyone disappear with someone violating your body? Much less a child's body? My god… impossible. Hard to believe he'd ever raped anyone, knowing what he did. She held him tight, held him as tight as she could. Keeping him together. Holding him together.

"I love you," she said. She knew he wouldn't answer… the look on his face was enough, his eyes told her everything. He loved her in a way beyond simple words, actions, beyond earth. She knew that truth. She felt loved by him despite reason, despite everything, no matter what the outside world believed or what they saw. Judgment was harsh. Outsiders would never understand. She met his movements, thrusting against him, feeling he was near his end.

"Come inside of me… come… come, I want to feel you," she whispered.

He groaned, his seed hot, the spasms strong, his mouth open on her shoulder. The sound he made came from somewhere deep, a dark place, a cry almost. He soon settled on her. He lay a long while, separating and moving to her side. They gazed at each other. Touched each other's faces. He wanted to say something, but he held back. She relaxed… said softly, "Just tell me. Please."

He watched her some moments longer, touching her lips, her cheek. He sniffed hard. Pulled away from her.

"She raped me," he said quietly.

"What-" She started to talk, express her shock, confusion… but then slammed her mouth shut.

"Violet… she acted out and… and it… it broke me. And she saw it. And she liked it. She liked that I became… powerless. The moment she saw it, she...uh… got on top of me and...uh... did things I didn't want but couldn't stop… and getting high was the only thing I could do to save myself when I came around." He breathed in. Closed his eyes. Took a deep relaxed sigh. He was calm.

"I'm sorry," Tea whispered.

"When it happened, I was far away. I watched it… like when I was a kid. Seemed to last forever. I was very… _confused_." He looked at the windows. "I thought she was… Peter. She said things. Like she knew him. Like she was him. I was… paralyzed. Living out earlier experiences."

Tea breathed out… no words possible.

"I don't think it's rape," he said. "I mean…truth is, I wanted trouble. I spent that whole day in the clinic, and… I saw it on her. She was fucked up and I knew it and I wanted it and I could see she wanted me in a fucked up way. I can't explain it other than… I wanted trouble. I wanted to get high. I figured she might have something. I figured she wanted trouble too. Then when she said she had info on Warren… I was hooked. She'd stalked me and I fell for it… like a fuckin' asshole."

It was hard for her to say anything. She agreed with him. He asked for it. He wanted trouble. But the kind he ended up with… well, he didn't ask for _that._ Man or woman, nobody asks to be abused. She'd seen Violet for herself. That woman was dangerous, evil. Made that way by so many people. A complete opposite result than from Brandy. Gently, she said, "Todd…men can be raped by women. You do know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, god, I spent plenty of time learning about it."

"Well… rape happens if a person is unable to consent to the act. If you were disconnected, you wouldn't have been able to consent."

"I let her in my office - isn't that consent to whatever shit goes down?"

"No."

"I let myself get all fucked up at her fucked-up-ness. It's very hard to see it any other way."

He sighed, cuddled against Tea. He was open. As open as she'd seen in a long time. Allowing her to comfort him this way, quietly.

"I'm tired," he said. "Fucking tired."

"Me too," she answered, eying the distant light in the window, caressing his hair, still damp from the shower, damp from sweat. The immediate shock of his words were fading. Truth was, she wasn't surprised. She'd known something terrible had happened in his office that night. For him to go off the rails that way, for him to wander so very high into that restaurant. No, no, that was way beyond the pale.

She would not easily forget his crying on the emergency room table, the sadness, the soul-wrenching desperation to be high again. The pain he experienced in that moment the Narcan had kicked in and wiped away all traces of the heroin could be felt throughout that emergency room. She remembered a nurse nearby turning to the sound, her face showing the vicarious agony. The woman had just closed her eyes, shook her head. Everyone felt it. Tea had known he'd not just gotten high with some whore. No surprise at all, this truth. In fact, she was completely unmoved.

He said softly, "I know what she is… a monster. She might be active… like an active pedophile." He turned to her. "I feel sick and I'm having a hard time dealing with it. I need to be in the hospital, I know that, because I'm back to wanting to… use… but bad. I want a needle, Tea. I want that… intense… dead-to-the-world high."

"Can you go back?"

"No. I'm needed elsewhere… and now this thing. I have to see it through."

"It's impossible. It's too hard… only special people, trained, mentally healthy… can do this thing."

"I know. But… I have to. I know I can finish this. Get a lot of people off the street. I can blow this thing up at the very top. But I also know… I'm not strong enough. Not well enough. I'll figure it out."

"You'll figure it out?" Tea chuckled dryly, "You say that like you're talking about a scheduling conflict."

He shrugged, "Yeah… but it's all I can do. Figure this fucking thing out."

"Do you think MK is involved?"

He paused, his eyes darkening. Shook his head at first, but then, "Truth is I don't know. I got no idea."

"What do you want from me?"

"Patience. I promise… I'm going to do everything I can to keep _safe_."

"Off heroin, you mean."

"Yes. I promise you. Just please… be patient. I don't know how successful I'm gonna be. But I really don't want to use, ok? I want it… but I really, really, really don't. I just… I'm just having a really hard time and I gotta figure it out."

"You still have those cigarettes?" Her tone got clipped, short. Impatient.

He buried his head. Of course he did. In the jeans he was wearing.

"You make things very difficult on yourself. How do you expect to stay safe-"

"I'm promising you, the kids, myself... and that's all I can do. I'll be in contact with Tim, with the program..."

"Where did you say you were going?"

"Ty Jerome's. Says he has something for me. At his place. He doesn't use, doesn't deal, he's got nothing. So it's something else."

"Can I come with you?"

He smiled, just a small sad smile, but it was better than not. He nodded. "Yeah, for sure. Come with me." He looked at her and kissed her. "I'm sorry. I am. I am so sorry. I'm a fucked up nightmare. Piece of shit of the highest order."

"Yeah…but I'll come with you anyway."

* * *

><p>When they drove out the driveway like a bat outta hell in the Porsche, he wanted to flip off the suits hiding out across the road but thought better. Chose instead to lose them in the maze of industrial buildings across the river. He switched cars with Rolon in a place owned by MK, jamming up the highway to Ty's place.<p>

Violet's brother.

_Fucking_ Violet.

He fiddled with the radio of the restored 1969 Mustang, really not getting Rolon's love of old shit. News was boring, music had too many commercials. He shoved in the cassette tape that was sticking out of the player, resorting to Cuban music the rest of the way. At least no interruptions. He smoked a Camel… but then stopped, preferring to breathe in the fresh air through the open windows. Sunny summer days…

They'd talked to Viki… a special day at her house. The kids were having fun. The best part was that Jed was there with little Rose who was becoming quite attached to him. Viki said he was a good father, attentive, loving, patient. She'd smiled... Tea said she could _hear_ the smile on the phone. Jed had asked for Todd. She said, he's warming up, Tea. It's good. It's a good thing.

Was it, he wondered? Did Jed warming up mean he might stick his toes into MK waters again?

He looked at peaceful Tea on the passenger seat, hand on the door, her eyes trained on the passing landscape. Her other hand rested on Todd's thigh. Like they were just out for a drive. Like they were normal. But he knew better. He knew that she had every reason to leave him. He understood that she would have no choice if he could not stay away from drugs. If he could not keep them safe from MK.

Leaving him was inevitable. He grabbed her hand tight into his.

Tea looked at their hands, catching a quick flash of his eyes. She could read him, plain as print on paper. He was afraid of losing her. But he understood that leaving him was inevitable, no matter the love, no matter. Leaving would become an imperative. She could see in his face that he knew this to be true.

He glanced at her again, "I will do everything I can. I promise you." He held her hand so tight.

"I know," she said tiredly.

Ty's place hadn't changed. He looked forward to seeing that dog, what was his name? Breaker. Breaker of hearts. Wild thing that seemed a whole lot mellower around Todd. He wanted to just sit near the thing. Knowing… knowing he felt okay around that poor broken beast. He'd looked at Todd like he knew the shit he'd been through. Like he heard his thoughts. Like he just got it.

The roar of the engine died down and Todd turned the key, killing the engine. He shook out a cigarette and smoked a little, looking at the place, its run-down-ness, its isolation. He always thought Ty had family, had something to keep him so sane. He was a scrapper back in Statesville, tough… but not tough enough to keep him totally safe. He'd had his dealings.

Out the front door, Ty came bobbing to the car. Nodding his head and saying, "Hey, man. How's it going?"

Tea kept the small talk up but Todd wasn't the small talk type so as they walked into the house, Todd said, the fuck you want? Why am I all the way out here?

Ty didn't answer, saying, "hey, come on to the kennel. I want to see how Breaker does around you. You remember that guy?"

"Yeah… he's still…"

"Mad? Fucking crazy? Yeah. I'm just curious if he's different around you. Maybe when you were here, it was a fluke."

They walked in back, past the gate, and down the aisle, straight away was Breaker. He stood proud at the door of his kennel, thick-bodied, scarred. Eyes on Todd. They approached the kennel and Ty whistled low…

"Fuck me. He ain't even moving. Damn he knows you. Every morning he goes fucking crazy at me, at everyone else. But you show up and he fuckin' knows you." He stopped a few feet away from the black pitbull, a hand stopping Tea. He shook his head, "sorry, you understand."

"He's really quiet," Tea said.

"Yeah… it's your husband."

Todd went to the kennel fence and squatted down. Breaker sniffed at his fingers, licking them through the fence. Todd stuck his fingers through the chain links, scratching the dog's chin. The dog rubbed his face against the fence, trying to get close to Todd.

"That is fuckin' crazy. You know, you saw Breaker before. He hates everybody. Thinks they're all out to get him. Except Manning."

Todd was moved. He held onto the fence, putting his head against the metal. The dog and him just _being_. The dog finally lay down, sad eyes watching Todd. "Wish I could take you," he said, "But you're too damn dangerous. I know how that is."

The other dogs were quiet, too. But when Tea turned to leave the kennel area, to head into the kitchen of Ty's house, they all woke up, barking and howling and pacing and showing their sweet smiles. Pit bulls have such a bad rap.

Tea and Ty left Todd in the kennel with Breaker. Todd had keys to the cage and Ty gave him food to share with the dog. Breaker was… happy. It was truly a miracle. Ty was sorry there wasn't a way to allow Breaker to be with Todd more often. There was still no way for Breaker to leave the kennel. For all the calm he displayed around Todd… one wrong move and the dog might break away and attack someone.

Ty poured himself a glass of water with ice, offering Tea the same. She took it. Sat at the humble kitchen table. He lived simply, quietly, modestly, but the place was bright and uplifting. There wasn't a lot of clutter and it smelled like cookies. She figured he baked. It made her laugh because he didn't look the baking type. She could see jars of flour and sugar on the counter, baking mits. She wished he had family, more family, healthier family.

"Do you see your… uh… friends?"

"From Statesville?" She nodded. He answered, "Yeah, we talk. They know about my sister, that she's Manning's out. They're real happy about that. The good luck. Protects them too. Even though they know… Manning wasn't gonna turn on us. He'd rather die than that."

"I know."

"So… I asked him to come 'cause I got a dog for him."

"A dog."

"Yeah," Ty said. "He's... uh... special."

"Like Breaker...?"

"Yeah, in a way, only not a killer." He grinned and shook his head. "This guy's really cool. It'll be good for your kids too. He's not capable of hurting kids…he's trained. Come on."

They went outside and Todd was locking the cage. Breaker was standing at attention, watching everyone, but quiet. Peaceful for a change. Todd wore a sad expression on his face. Turned to Tea and Jerome.

"So tell me," Todd said, "why am I here?"

"For this guy, Abram," Ty said. He walked to a cage with a leash and opened the door, bent down and put the leash on the dog. He was classic pitbull, black and white, but mostly white. He smiled like the rest of them. Ty was squatting and scratching the dog's face who was happily looking around, taking in the new people. But the dog caught a scent. In Todd's direction. Just pulled slightly. Looked up at Ty, who smiled... saying, "Good Abram, good."

Then Ty moved in Todd's direction, said, "Where is it, Abram? Where is it?"

The dog pulled more and Ty let him go. Abram walked cautiously to Todd, sniffing around Todd's feet then up towards his pockets. Sniffed, trying to get to Todd's back pocket. Barked, then went back to grabbing at Todd's jeans. The back pocket.

Tea moved closer, "Is he okay?"

"He's doing what he's supposed to be doing," Ty explained. But not really. "You have somethin' in your pocket, dude?"

Todd looked at Tea and reached back, pulling out the cigarette case. The dog took the thing out of Todd's hand and ran aways away, dropping the thing at the gate. He went right back to Todd and sat next to him. Plopped hard up against Todd's boot. When Todd tried to move, the dog barked and pressed back against him, effectively keeping him in place.

Ty came over and petted the dog, "Good Abram, really good."

"What the fuck?" Todd said. "He anti-smoking or something? And why is he not letting me move?" He tried again but the dog barked and grabbed Todd's jeans in his teeth. Keeping him still. Todd looked questioningly at Ty. "Well?"

Ty sighed, still a bit shy, not forgetting who had the most power in the kennel right now. He looked up at his old protector, "You got dope in that cigarette case, dude?"

Rolling his eyes a second, he then flashed pure coldness. Tea spoke up, her tone once again clipped, "Of course he does. Spiked cigarettes. Heroin."

Abram looked up at Todd, smiling. Todd grumbled, "Don't look at me."

The dog barked and continued to press up against Todd.

Ty beamed, talking excitedly, "Well,... Abram _was_ a DEA dog-"

"Drug Enforcement Agency," Tea said, "They use pitbull terriers?"

"Yup, trained to find drugs. They have powerful noses. Super smart. Only what was happening with Abram in training was instead of just sniffing out the shit, which he would do like a champ, he'd also pull the officers away from the drugs. He failed out of DEA puppy school because he was a natural protector. His trainers saw that he'd bark at the theoretical user when the user would reach for the drugs. He'd then stay by the user. Keeping the user safe. He'd even grab the user's wrist, holding him away from the drugs. He'll actually kick up his feet on paraphernalia to break pipes and stuff... it's crazy."

Tea, murmured, "Really."

"Great," Todd huffed. But he squatted down and the dog licked his face, Todd shaking his head, petting the dog anyway. Tea could see the barest of smiles on her husband's face.

Ty went on, "he's learned other stuff too. If he thinks his person needs help, he'll bark to get it. He can trigger an alarm on his person's body. He's real quick to follow whatever protocol the person needs." Ty grinned, proud, "He's an awesome dog. He's perfect. For you."

Todd sniffed and looked at the dog. Abram panted lightly, seemingly happy at life in general.

"Manning?" Todd looked up at his friend. "He's a service dog. He works for you, to get you away from drugs. He'll pull you away from whatever shit you have… And 'cause he's a service dog, you can take him anywhere, everywhere."

"He'll bogart my stash…"

"Yeah, but he's he's got some other special training, too. For seizures and PTSD."

Tea asked, "Seizures?"

"Yeah, he senses when a seizure is coming... he'll bark and get right by your legs and break your fall. He'll lie with you until someone comes or you tell him everything is okay."

But that reminded Todd of the risk of seizures. Someone would kill him if he was down. "But will he protect me?" he asked. "If I'm out."

Tea could see the worry on his face, real fear.

Ty knew the risk. He remembered everything they did to protect Todd, all too well. He nodded, "Yeah, man. If someone comes at you aggressively, when you're down, he'll sense that. He knows to differentiate danger from people who want to help. And if he senses real danger, he'll tear 'em up."

That made Tea nervous. "We have kids, Ty."

"No, no… no worries, he knows aggression. He's real keen on it. He's fuckin' smart, Tea, I promise you. There isn't any risk. He's been more than tested."

Todd bent his head, petting the dog who responded by licked his hand then cuddling tighter. The dog just sat there. Unmoving. Steady. Strong.

Tea wondered if this could work, if this beast could save his life? Certainly if there's a will to die, there's a way. Todd could just leave the dog behind. Drive into the dark alone. The dog would be useless. Tea voiced her fear, "He'll just not use the dog. Go use on his own."

"Yeah, he could," Ty said. "No doubt. Gues that would be up to Manning."

Quietly, softly, Todd asked, "How long you been working on this idea?"

"A while, since you were here last time. I had just gotten him. When I saw you with Breaker, I thought this guy might work with you." He paused, "I talked to your doctor, too."

"Tim?" Todd asked.

Tea spoke up, "That's why you wanted his number."

"Yeah, no confidential shit, man. Your doc is real quiet about you. But I asked him about the dog and he liked the idea. He thought it was perfect."

"You want me to take this dog."

"Yeah, man. Yeah." He looked at Tea, back at Todd. "I'll work with you. I got someone to come over to also pitch in. Spend time today, tomorrow… get you guys to know each other. Get him better at doing what you need him to do. He works for you."

Todd remained quiet, undecided. He shrugged. Tea got aggravated. "I thought you wanted to stay safe. Isn't that what you said?"

"Yeah, 'course I said that… I meant it... But, I'm around a lot of shit. Not just on me. People carry all over the place. He might go fuckin' crazy."

Ty shook his head hard, "No, no, no… he will focus only on you. That's what the next couple of days will be about. Training. He didn't go to you today until I told him. He's SMART. Serious, no bullshit, smart."

The quiet was killing Tea. But Ty wasn't giving up. "He'll help you, man. Keep you away from that shit that's killing you. He'll soothe you when you want to use. It works. It's proven to work." Ty huffed with urgency. Tea rubbed her face. Turned on her heels, too emotional all of a sudden because the risk got real. He was very ill and this dog seemed an unlikely fix. "I'll be in the car," she said. The gate opened and closed. The car door opened… and closed.

Todd heard those footsteps. Inevitable. He closed his eyes, feeling the stab of her leaving him. Taking the kids…

_Inevitable._

Ty got close to Todd. Dark gentle eyes reached Todd's. "The dope _is_ killing you. I saw it… that night, that morning. It ain't a matter of 'if,' it's a matter of _when_. And you… you got too much to lose. A wife, kids, a real fuckin' life that most of us never get." He swallowed hard. "You die of dope, what a waste. You fought for that kid, for Diego, for all of us… for what? You shame Diego, man, you do. Every day by dyin' like this, you shame him. All of us that you worked hard to protect, that you sacrificed to protect. That fuckin' Horenda… he'll win in the end by greeting you in hell. He'll laugh his fuckin' ass off… to see you, dead from dope."

The words were too real, too hard to hear, coming from one his "kids." Ty talked plainly, from a position of truth, strength. Back in Statesville, no way could any of them have talked this way to him. But today...truth kept Ty talking.

Todd just sat on his butt, his head in his hands. Like his legs just lost all strength. "I'm fuckin' tired," he said, his voice barely registering. The dog inched close to Todd. Sat real still. Nudged and sat. Eying all around. Watching, watching. He seemed to know instinctively that Todd was his work, his duty of care.

Ty walked to the steps that led to his kitchen. Sat on the steps. Giving his old protector space to think about shit he was doing. He wasn't just killing himself, but all those people who loved him. And man… he actually had people who loved him. Ty smoothed the tips of his boots, shining them with spit. He had almost nobody in his life except them damn dogs. But he'd lay his life down for 'em. That's for sure. He couldn't imagine why or how Manning would be throwing his life away when he had such a family around him. Made no fuckin' sense. But he wasn't totally insensitive. He knew the draw of drugs and he knew that being raped early in life would fuck you up but good.

Like Violet.

Except in her case, there wasn't much to save anymore.

"So what's it gonna be, Manning? Life with Abram here… or death? Who's gonna win?"

**To be continued...**


	34. Chapter 34

**Caged**

**Chapter 34**

He really had no choice but to give Abram a try. He had everything to lose. The fact that he kept focusing on the cigarette case at the gate, that he kept thinking he ought to grab those spiked cigarettes and smoke up before he took Abram, that his entire morning was spent agonizing about the needle... all told him he'd never last a week without dope, not without hospitalization. A fact at this time.

Yeah, he really had no choice.

That warm afternoon at the kennel felt like a last chance. A bit like Granite rehab, the place where those who had no hope went. No, he wasn't shooting up, but he was headed there. And headed there fast. He felt it. He had no hope left.

There was something, too, in Tea's footfalls to the car that felt permanent. She might have let him in their bed, might have said she loved him, but he knew better. He knew he was HER addiction. He knew deep inside that she'd disconnected from him. He could see it on her. He could feel it when she held him to her. Could feel her staring at the windows beyond him, could feel her wandering mind when he was deep inside of her rutting like a fucking animal. Her calm when he confessed the truth about Violet and what happened in the office… was too calm. Too accepting. She was damn unmoved, actually. One more drop of shit in the shitcan. He had a long way to go to get his family back for fuckin' real.

Todd had been sitting with his back against Breaker's cage. Glanced at smiling Abram. Turned his head to study Breaker who was lying down, pressed against the gate. Trying to get close. "Damn dog," he breathed, stretching his fingers into the cage. Breaker lazily licked his fingertips. Broken, beaten, waiting-to-die Breaker. He seemed resigned to his true person walking out of here with someone else. Those dark eyes, full of sadness.

_Sonofabitch._

Ty walked up and handed Todd a cigarette. Todd took it gratefully, lighting it with Ty's lighter. He nodded a yes. I'll do it, he said. Ty smiled. Good, he said. Only one problem, Todd said.

"How am I gonna do the shit I do, deal with the people I deal with, with a fuckin' dog who inspires women and children to wanna _hug_ him? I'm gonna get killed, man, with this cupcake at my side."

Ty smiled and squatted to pet Abram, Breaker growling in the background. Ty looked at Breaker. Looked at Todd.

"He's tougher than he looks, trust me," Ty said.

"He better be 'cause this shit ain't gonna work." Todd glanced down at Abram who panted happily at his side. "Stop being such a pussy. That is not a compliment." Abram wagged his tail, looking dreamily up at Todd. "Oh god…"

"Don't worry. He's not working right now. When he works, he's damn serious."

"Working."

"Yeah, when you got him on the leash, when you say certain commands, he's on the clock. And when he's on the clock, he's all business. He follows YOU. He goes by your lead."

"I gotta think, too, of what I'm gonna say." Todd looked a little vulnerable, eyes softening, a worried crease of his brow, a bite of his lip. Sniffed and puffed on that cigarette. "I don't advertise my epilepsy for a fuckin' reason and I'm not gonna start now. And I sure as hell ain't gonna say it's for goddamn PTSD or goddamn dope…shit..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, groaned softly, then shook his head. "Jesus, I'm a hot fuckin' mess."

Ty paused a bit, studying Abram. Then shrugged, "Look, he's just a rescue. Live with the limits on regular dogs. You're the only one who has to know what he's really doing. Can't take him to a fancy place? Don't go there, or leave him for a short while."

"That's the point though, ain't it? Never leaving him?"

Ty paused, petting Abram, looking thoughtful. "Be truthful. If you walk into any of your regular places, are people really gonna stop YOU? YOU with your fighter dog at your side? A dog wearing a spiked collar who looks like he does, who won't be wagging his tail when he's working? Who'll make a little noise when men walk up to you un-cautiously? A fucking pitbull?" Ty tilted his head, "I mean, for real, think about your life. How you live. Do you know any place that you go to on a regular basis that's gonna tell YOU that YOU can't have your dog with you?"

Well that was certainly true. No, he couldn't think of a single place. His life had become extremely isolated over the years. Mainly MK haunts and no, they wouldn't dare say to leave HIS dog outside. No way. He did whatever the fuck he wanted. The Banner? Viki would know the truth and of course wouldn't ever say no. A few dinner spots around town with bigwigs when he had to. Maybe, but probably no. He was pretty eccentric as it was, so no. He'd flash them an irritated look and they'd let him in. No doubt, people did just get out of his way. He did wonder if it might help his cover, too. Might help him if he ever got contact with real kids. Hmmmm. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

He sighed tiredly. He had no idea. All he did know was that he had no choice. He rubbed his eyes, resigned. Sniffed as he put the cigarette out on the ground.

"Okay. What now?"

"Now the training begins." Ty smiled. "Welcome to your new life."

* * *

><p>Tea drove fast. She left Todd behind, left him with Ty Jerome to work on his new partnership. She didn't know why she felt angry. It sort of crept up on her. Something about Todd's actual unbelievable <em>hesitation<em> to work with this dog. SERIOUSLY? What else was he going to do? Just wing that addiction? Just pissed her off. She saw the look on his face when the puppy dragged away the spiked cigarettes. Loss. He wanted them. He wanted the small bit of heroin. Maybe she was just angry at life. Maybe she just needed to see her babies. Two days apart from them was too much. Grated on her nerves.

Maybe she wanted a divorce.

She dialed RJ's number. When she got his voicemail she hung up. First thing's first. She needed to drop off this car at the industrial maze where Rolon awaited the return of HIS baby. His Mustang. She eyed her purse. Where her gun was. Wished she had worn her holster.

Late afternoon approached as she drove the narrow alleys to the garage. The engine sounded loud, chugging as she passed the plain buildings. When she hit number 942, the large sliding door lay open, other cars in the garage. Men loitered, some worked on cars, others stood looking at cell phones. MK in all their glory. Lots of MK color on skin. She swallowed hard. Why did she stupidly come here on her own? Should have waited for Todd.

See what her temper got her?

She sniffed and came to a full stop. She took the gun and shoved it into the back of her jeans, the way RJ taught he. Grabbed her jacket and wiggled into it. When she stepped out, she knocked her head back and walked straight into the garage. Rolon was bent over a gaping car, hood up, the engine rumbling as he shouted to a young kid in the driver's seat.

All the men in the place watched her as she walked towards Rolon. She called his name but he didn't hear. The men stopped what they were doing. She eyed every one of them, daring them to take one step closer. She'd blow their goddamn heads off and they seemed to have a sense of it. But they also held onto their chauvinism like a tit with milk. They leaned back, smiled slightly. Surprised really, at her gall as she approached Rolon.

Someone shouted, "Rolon!" Spanish accented. _"A__lguien está aquí para verte!"_ Made a catcall. She shot him a withering glance. Rolon turned, smiling. Told the kid to kill the engine. The place was suddenly quiet. He grabbed a cloth, wiping his hands, grinning.

"Ahhh… _mamita rica_…look at you, walking into my place, all by your lonesome." He gave her the once over, purring, "Damn, _El Diablo Blanco _is a lucky man. Doesn't deserve such Puerto Rican perfection." He moved very close to her, eying her body, landing on her eyes. Setting Tea's teeth on edge. The gun felt heavy and lonely. Needed using.

"I'm delivering your car. Thank you." She was ice cold. Todd's car was behind some others. Shit. "Can you please get me his car? I need to get outta here."

"Where your husband at, _preciosa_? Can't believe he sent you here all alone?" A couple of men moved closer. She could see them in her peripheral. Goddamn it.

"None of your business, Rolon. If he wanted you to know he would have told you. Besides, I'm perfectly capable of handling myself, on my own."

"Yes, I suppose. You still packin' that Glock, baby girl?"

"Come closer and find out."

He laughed loudly, head back, the sound carrying across the garage. "Yeah, I know you are." He yelled at someone to get the car out. Tea moved out of the way, back up against another car, glad to have something at her back. The faster she moved, the better. As cars got reorganized, Rolon slid in next to her.

"How's he doing, _mamita_?"

"Fine."

"Shit's going down, you know."

"What are you talking about?"

"_Los Serranos_. Now that Manning's out the hospital, they want to renegotiate terms. Shit is hot again. They wantin' some business of their own, business we been owning for some time. They're willing to deal if we help get rid of the Irish. Clear them out of our district."

"And what does 'get rid of' mean?"

"It means… we get rid of them."

"I don't need to know any of this. You discuss it with my husband."

"No, no… because see, your husband, he been getting _ethical_ or something. And to tell you the truth, ethical never looked good on him. And I need him ON. You get me, _mamita_? I need that boy to be on OUR side."

Tea dropped her voice, turned tightly, whispered harshly, "I thought you wanted OUT. _Ethical_ is where you have to go… to get out. If you start killing people, getting out is going to be very difficult."

He whispered back, low and cool. "I haven't changed my mind, but clearing the Irish out will be very helpful all around."

"How?"

"Transition."

"To _Los Serranos_? Are you crazy?"

Rolon held in a smile, "What would you do?"

"What business do_ Los Serranos_ want?"

"Our gambling. Up and down the state."

"The don't know anything about gambling. They bring nothing but murder and chaos." Tea sniffed. Looked around. Said softly, "I'd transition to the Tribal Gaming Authority."

Rolon looked hard at her. "Woman…"

"Things are changing. State of Pennsylvania wants in on gambling. Might be as soon as next year. So casinos are set to open shop. It's going to put your illegal works out of business. Why would anyone risk raids? No, I have a name for you. Let me know if you want it."

"Woman, underground gambling is always going to be around."

"Yeah, but wouldn't you rather our Native American brothers own it? Slowly move your assets to them? They run illegal games, too, and are damn good at it." She paused as she looked at Todd's car rolling up in front of her. "_Los Serranos_ and the Irish both need getting rid of. Don't even think of dealing with either of those entities."

She got into the car, a little shaky. What the hell was she doing, getting involved in MK business? Saving her family, that's what. She moved the seat. Fixed the mirrors. Put the Porsche in gear. Rolon motioned to her to lower her window. She did, looked at him.

"He know about this idea of yours?"

"No. I'll leave it to you to share it. Use it. Pretend it's all yours. Be _brilliant_." She smiled sweetly and so did Rolon. A guy stood in front of the car, arms crossed. As if. Tea shook her head, said to Rolon, "If he doesn't want me to run over his ass, you better tell him to get the hell out of my way." Rolon stepped aside, yelled curse words. The young man moved. Fast.

Tea hit the gas and made her way out of the complex. Took a breath. RJ rang. His voice felt like water on burned skin. She couldn't help it. She sighed as she drove. She needed simplicity. Their relationship was simple. Easy. Sex was sex. No history in it. No dark phantoms hovering.

_"What's up, woman? What you want?"_

"I need to see you. I just want... to see you."

RJ cursed, _"You kill me, you know."_

"I know."

* * *

><p>When Todd arrived home, the house was dark, empty, cold. Damn alarm was off. Abram was at his side. Dog had eaten at Ty's place so no more food for the night. Ty had driven the two of them in his truck, talking dog tips all the way. Todd hadn't ever owned a dog. Like ever. Didn't know the first thing. Hoped his array of kids would have a little fuckin' insight. Surely they had friends with dogs, yeah? Tea hadn't ever owned one either. Viki? Didn't think so. He'd have to get a whole bunch more accoutrements. Ty had a some stuff… food, bowls, a bed, a toy or two. A blanket he loved. God. Another long day of training would start tomorrow with a specialist in town for the next week. Not to mention the drug counselors. Tim was happy. Thought the dog was going to really help.<p>

_Super. I gotta get back to work._

He brought in the stuff from the car. Said his goodbyes. The house was depressing. Where was his wife? Where was his Porsche. He flipped on lights, Abram padding behind him after peeing on the planters outside the door. Both of them. _Nice._ He stopped, looked at the dog. Idea was to just keep him at his side. The dog had a sense of his job. Watch for seizures, be there when Todd needed him, when the cravings hit hard, when flashbacks threatened to pull Todd into never-never-land. The dog turned, sensing something in the distant dark. Inside the house. He was damn serious.

Ty was right about that.

Barked, growled, dropped his head low. Todd turned. "Something there, boy?" Todd bent and drew his knife out of the leg sheath. He stepped forward, Abram walking ahead cautiously. He then barked loud and low. He meant business. Showing teeth. Yeah, he wasn't no cupcake. Todd flipped on the light, Abram still barking and growling and advancing. He knew an intruder when he saw one. Todd grabbed the leash, pulled at it to quiet the dog when he saw his uninvited visitor. There on their couch, comfy as a cat, sat Benicio Juarez, Captain of Organized Crime for the Feds.

"The fuck are you doing in my house…? _Again?_ I do not have a goddamn open door, do you understand this basic kind of shit? How do you even get in here?"

"Hey Manning, new puppy?"

"Yeah, and when I let go of this leash, he's gonna eat your fuckin' balls. Now get the fuck OUT."

Juarez laughed, "I'm sorry, I'm sort of on the down low. Needed to meet with you. In private."

"Private don't mean locks dematerialize."

"Wanted to tell you myself that you're in, I'm in. I want to take down this ring you're talking about."

"We could have met in my lawyer's office."

"No, I don't want people to see you with ME. I don't want you at risk. I don't want to risk your cover. I don't want anyone thinking you have anything to do with us."

Todd sat on the opposite couch. "I got full immunity?"

"Yes. Horenda's murder is dead in the water. Local police have been informed that you are no longer a suspect. Your MK associations have been established as prison only. Any and all cases against you have been shut down. Of course, if you're caught doing anything new, or if you bail on the ring, you will be nailed to the fuckin' wall. On Horenda, too. You will never see the light of day again."

Todd smirked, "I can live with that."

"Yeah, I bet." He paused. "This thing with Darryl Warren, it goes higher than him."

"He told you that?"

"Yes."

"Where is he?"

"He's being dealt with. By a specialized team that deals with such problems on the inside. But this thing, is too big to settle that way. Too pervasive. I'm scared as fuck to tell you the truth. So I've formed a new team of 'need-to-know' people only. Only people I trust with my life. Trust that aren't dirty. About five. One you know actually."

The moment the guy said Warren was being dealt with, Todd's stomach tightened, his balls tightened. He'd be deprived of killing Warren himself. But curiosity took over. "Who do I know on your team?"

"He's a CI coordinator. He's been working in our child pornography division for a few years now. He's young-looking. Smart as hell. Good on the computer. Name's Kenny McNair. Got out on parole during your stint. Think he was one of your… uh..._ kids_."

The way Juarez said _kids_, said this guy knew all about Todd's life in Statesville, a LOT about it. _McNair_. The name hit Todd strangely, both a shock and not. Both sick-inducing and like a twisting of his heart. He looked down at the dog, petted him. Dark memories slid out from the depths. He said softly, "The Feds often employ criminals, so intimately?"

Juarez chuckled, "We scooped that kid up the moment he hit the outside. He's good. Did some stuff in Statesville for us, actually. Don't get me wrong, he wasn't undercover. He got time for doing shit he shouldn't have been doing. But he was willing to talk to us. He's real good. Been catching predators for quite some time. Acts like a kid on screen, got the perfect vulnerability. Nails them."

_Let me love you, let me touch you, let me...let me...just tonight…_

Todd rubbed his hair, his scruffy face, tried to maintain composure. The kid had loved him that one night, then had disappeared into the ether. The kid had wrecked him a little. Showed him something that once existed outside Statesville and didn't exist inside, and left Todd deeply wounded, left him bleeding soulfully for the next three years. Bad part was that it helped make it easier for Todd to invade the space of Smithy Jackson. The sudden memory hurt. He reached down and petted Abram. The dog still and cool. Not taking his eyes off Juarez. The dog wasn't sure about the safety of the guy. He also sensed shit wasn't right with Todd. He moved his big old head, caressed Todd right back.

"How do we get started, then?" Todd said, his voice quiet.

"You going to put the knife down or am I still a threat to you?"

Todd didn't realize he still clutched it in his fist. He glanced at the weapon, then at Juarez. As if he were still making a determination. He put the thing away. Juarez started to talk. They'd begin with what Todd knew, names. There was a file, yeah? He had a file of information? Before immunity would kick in, Juarez needed to see that file.

Once the information was confirmed by Juarez's visual review of the file, Todd was to go ahead and make contact. See what was available. See where it would lead. He'd be given a cell phone, an untraceable website to dump the information he'd gather. He'd work with McNair. McNair had aged out of the porn business as far as acting like a victim. Now he worked with others, and worked the computers.

"We want names, Manning, and we need proof. Computer id's, addresses, any real connections to real kids, videos, pictures, email content."

Todd just kept his eyes on Juarez. Nodded, shrugged. "Okay…"

Juarez studied Todd for a long minute. Then said in a gentle tone, "I know a lot about you. Most importantly, I know you got a fuckin' habit. As long as we don't catch you with dope, we don't care. As long as you act straight, as long as you keep to your job, we don't care. But we're not a drug rehab either so if you start losing your shit, you're going to jail. I also know you got stress issues. You got a history with child sexual abuse. You're going to end up maybe seeing images that are gonna be rough. When that girl's tape was playing, you averted your eyes. I saw that. Well… you won't be able to look away if you're undercover for us. You will have to look and you will have to fuckin' deal. Now, our people, they sometimes take time, get help. It's hard to handle, much less someone with history. So, you gotta be cool. You feel shaky, you feel like you're gonna break, you gotta come clean with me. We'll pull you out, give you time to breathe. Not see images a while. Talk to somebody."

Juarez looked Todd dead in the eye. "I also know you killed Horenda, probably got some other poor souls killed behind bars. I suspect you are comfortable with gang killings. I know you got hate inside of you. But like I said, keep it in check or you will go to prison for new cases you catch. If you are dealing face to face with a predator, and you decide you want to kill him, you WILL be prosecuted. I will not cover shit up. You want to help us? You want to fulfill your side of the immunity? Then you gotta think like _us_. Make ultimate decisions like us. The _good_ ones."

Todd sniffed, kept petting Abram. This was going to be hell. Where was Tea? Where the fuck was Tea? Dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell. No messages. Saw a message from Viki. She was taking kids out for dinner. Said to let her know if she needed to keep them another night. Said, _I love you, my brother. Please tell me you're okay. Where is Tea?_

_Fuck. Where was she, yeah?_

"You think you can do this, Manning?"

The words echoed in his head. No, he didn't think he could do this. That was the fucking truth. Not without a shitload of heroin in his veins. That was for damn sure. He looked straight at Juarez, his voice soft and broken. "I don't know."

Juarez nodded. "Good. If you said yes, I'd have known you were lying. You're human. Good to fuckin' know. You telling me that you don't know says you got a conscience. Now, I'm going to give you an address to a warehouse in the southside district. It's our headquarters. McNair will be waiting for you. He'll be alone. We plan on isolating you from the others. He's your only contact. We need to preserve you in your real environment… not give you new people to know. We don't want you recognizing any of the cops. From here on in, you're a bona fide child predator. Really, you're just going to continue being who people think you are. You're going to be… that guy you were when you rocked Statesville. An active rapist who developed a previously unproven penchant for teen boys. The younger they are, the better."

Todd eyed him. Yeah, he remembered all too well. That IS what prisoners thought of him, what guards thought of him. He remembered Horenda delivering Diego like a prize…

_Satisfaction guaranteed, Manning. Give us the information if you like him - I know you will enjoy him. He'll beat out all those other kids you been fucking. _

Todd breathed in, yeah, yeah, good times. This was too real. He cursed, "Fuck." Leaned back, rubbed his head.

"You played it up for five years, Manning. To stay alive. You protected those kids by being a predator. I know you've long abandoned that persona. MK realized you weren't that some time ago… but there are people who believe you just made yourself look legit to maintain a real life outside Statesville. Like you said, that is golden. You are in an excellent position. They will like YOU. You have money and are GOOD at keeping under the radar."

_I have a young boy, Mr. Manning. Are you interested? A little birdy says you are._

Todd looked at his phone and could see, could feel, that he was shaking. "It's fuckin' cold in here." He got up, Abram staying with him, on fire alert. He stuck right by Todd. He felt the stress. The dog nudged his leg. Todd opened a closet and got a jacket. He pulled it on. Adjusted the thermostat. He was shaking and sweating. He was having a full-on panic attack. FUCK! What a goddamn pussy.

He dropped down and let the dog lick his face, let Abram look at him. Sniff for wellness. He petted the dog and put his head to the dog's face. The warmth felt good. He did what the specialist at Ty's place told him to do. Breathe. Touch Abram's body and breathe. Images came out of the blue. Violet's voice started to shake the view of the room. He thought of his own children and could see them being abused. Confusing himself with real memories and imagined ones. He rubbed his face against Abram. The smell, the sound and feel of the dog, seemed to stop the drifting to some extent. He felt like a boat tied to a port in a storm. Slamming against the side, slamming but not going anywhere. He huffed and closed his eyes. The dog licked his face.

Juarez chimed from across the room, "You okay?"

"Yup. Just got cold. Haven't eaten much today. Got no sleep last night."

The panic seemed to subside. Todd's breathing returned to normal. Now he wanted to get high.

FUCK. Hot fuckin' mess.

He sniffed and got to his feet. Mouth dry. Positively jonesing. He patted his back pocket for the spiked cigarettes but they were trashed. He literally looked in the direction of his room, wondering where the drugs were. No, no, he didn't have any. FUCK. He glanced at the dog who was now staring back at him.

Juarez broke his focus, "Show me what you have. Show me the file. You don't get immunity until I got a visual of your shit."

Todd stood tall, back in control. "Show me the immunity papers."

Juarez opened a brief case and threw them on the coffee table. "Your lawyer has seen them. Signed off."

"He hasn't told me."

Juarez whipped out his phone and texted. Within a minute, Todd's cell buzzed. His lawyer said, _Papers are A-ok. You got full coverage. Better than fucking Obamacare._

Todd then said, "Manuel Caro is one name." He got up, went down the hallway to a little office, Abram padding next to him. He slid into his chair and unlocked the desk. Pulled out a file. The file he'd been hoarding since he got out of prison. It had more than a few individual names, a few corporate covers. It was tight. And terrifying. This thing was BIG.

He threw the file on the coffee table. There was his evidence. Everything he had. Juarez flipped through it. Looked up. "Holy shit. Why you been hanging on to this?"

"Because I was going to kill those guys with my own fuckin' bare hands. But you came along."

_Where the hell was Tea?_

He looked at his phone. As if messages could appear, as if he could will her to call.

Juarez got up. Todd was hanging onto the leash like a lifeline in one hand, the cell in the other. Juarez walked around the table, stood a foot away from Todd. Took him in from head to toe, could smell the animal sweat coming off of him. There was real terror there. The lawyer wasn't kidding that this guy had bad history with this kind of shit. Hoped like hell he'd maintain long enough to get kids out, take these fuckin' animals off the street.

Todd practically jumped out of his skin when Juarez patted Todd's shoulder. The dog growled and Juarez stepped back. The dog glared upwards, tight muscles. Did not like men, that was for sure.

"What did that old 70's show say? _Baretta_, yeah, yeah. _Keep your eye on the sparrow._ This has an end. A great end, Manning, that's far bigger than you, than me. You will do better this way than killing a few low-lying scumbags. Warren was the tip of the iceberg. We're going to take some very ugly people down, people who are walking around all legitimate. Hurting a lot of kids. You… for once… are going to be the _good_ guy, by being a very very bad one."

"Just tell me where I gotta be."

"I'd like you to get there tonight. Kenny's living there for now. You're going to meet with him. You're going to start down the computer path. Start making contacts. Start creating a real presence."

"Tonight?"

"Yes. I don't wanna waste a minute. Get a sandwich. You can sleep tomorrow."

The two men looked hard at the other. Juarez said, "You may not like kids, you may be normal in that regard, but reality is you ARE a predator, Manning. You drew on that part of you in Statesville and you were very convincing. It saved your life, and the lives of a few others." Juarez bent and opened his brief case, pulled out a report from Statesville. Showed it to Todd. What he read made him sick. A guard's report.

_Manning is an active rapist who intimidates and threatens his workers to keep them in line. Twice has been seen assaulting his young cell mate as well as other young men he keeps in his circle of influence. The sheet is used as a cover for repeated sexual assaults..._

Saw enough. Todd pushed it away. Yes, yes, it was all purposeful. But damn it sounded bad. And damning. It wasn't that much of a lie, really. Ask Jackson. Wasn't that a kind of rape, using that kid to rub his cock when he was high? Todd not once asked Jackson for permission. Ask all the real women Todd had raped. Ask Brandy. He'd raped her more than once. Yeah, he was a predator.

Juarez grabbed Todd's arm, "Hey, we know that report's not true."

"And how the fuck do you know that? How do you know I didn't rape cell mates and 'other men in my circle of fuckin' influence?' You don't know shit."

"Kenny McNair is how we know. He's one of the young men in that report that you supposedly raped and he vouches for you. Says it was a ruse. A well-built ruse. The fact that you got accepted into MK is how we know. They do not like male rapists and yet, you're in. The fact that nobody would press charges in Statesville is how we know. Not a single one of your kids was willing to testify against you."

"Braydon Armstrong did."

He nodded, shrugged… "One bad apple."

_Kenny_. "I'm done. Gimme the address."

Juarez handed a burner cell phone to Todd and a post-it with the address. "Use this burner for me and McNair. Our numbers are the only contacts on it. We'll chat tomorrow."

Juarez left and Todd just collapsed on the couch, not enough energy to go upstairs. This was going to be a special kind of hell indeed. He called Abram up on the couch. And just hugged him. It did feel good. It did derail his climb to find dope. His whole body seemed to just relax and settle.

_But where the fuck was Tea?_

His phone buzzed. He looked. A call from goddamn RJ Gannon. He should have known where his wife disappeared to. Should have fucking known.

He answered, "If she's drunk and fucking you… Keep her."

"What?! Fuck you! This be a fuckin' courtesy call for YOU,_ El Diablo Blanco,_ to GET your fuckin' _blanco_ ASS HERE to control your FUCKIN' men or people will FUCKIN' die. You hear me, bitch?! YOU FUCKIN' HEAR ME?!"

"Is Tea there?"

"Yeah she is! In MY GODDAMN OFFICE, ON MY GODDAMN COUCH!"

"Did you fuck her?"

"Are you KIDDING ME?! Manning, so help me god… if you don't get down here in five minutes, I will let your men fuck her! And MINE! Then I'll do it for good fuckin' measure!"

Todd had to control himself, control the hate. Shook his head. Got to his feet, grabbed the leash in his hands. "Let's go, Abram. Let's go kick some Jamaican ass. And a few Cubans to boot." Dialed Rolon. Told him to get a crew. Shit was happening at Gannon's club. No idea who other than MK.

Thank god for adrenaline.

**To be continued...**


	35. Chapter 35

**Caged**

Chapter 35

Tea walked into Gannon's club and felt the greatest relief, a complete letting go of her day. The music, the darkness, the people, the wrongness of her being in RJ's world. She should be with her kids, at the office, at home... but being here was a kind of high, really. For the slimmest of moments, she almost understood Todd's mad love of heroin. She breathed in the scents of the club, smiled, thankful for the wild crowd. Dying for a drink. It was the truth - there was nothing she wanted more than to get a little drunk with RJ. Did that make her like her husband?

_Don't be daft. You don't lose yourself to alcohol, you don't sacrifice your family for a taste of it. You're not an addict like he is. You don't look over the heads of your loved ones at a vodka bottle… the way he does when he senses his drug nearby. You do not risk dying when you take a drink. You recognize your limits…_

Alcohol is not her addiction.

She shook away the darker , no, not going to think about him. He's on his own. His journey is his. She cannot help him. Through the sea of people, RJ's beautiful self shined like a proverbial knight, long dreadlocks pulled back, his smile lighting up the air around him. How did Todd become the villain, and RJ the rescuer? Too much to say, she supposed. Years of shit under the bridge.

She hugged her friend, a best friend, their faces close together, his dark eyes hiding what was on his mind. Though the bemused expression told her much: disapproval at Tea in his club. His husky voice in his her ear, "The hell, woman, you gotta death wish for me or what?"

"I just needed a breather." She smiled. "That's all, I promise."

"Come to the bar then. Food and a drink, girl. And _water_."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Make it with two olives."

Delicious things arrived quickly, Tea's vodka tonic at the ready. RJ and she shared small talk, laughed easily. Finally, though, RJ said sharply, bringing the convo to a serious level, fast.

"Where your man at?"

She shrugged, looking around the club. Her brows furrowed at the sight of one young man. Familiar, a client. She shifted back to RJ. "Busy. Working on… you know, recovery. Being sober." She laughed, throwing her head back, "You know, staying away from heroin and whores. But… none of that matters. Let's focus on me." She smiled brightly, making RJ smile in response and shake his head.

Soon the smile faded a little, and he spat, "Woman, he ain't ever leaving the _heron_. Get over it, get over this fucked-up marriage and move the hell on." He looked into the depths of his own drink, adding, "And he ain't ever leaving MK either, just so you know. In case you be fantasizing about that."

Tea didn't say anything, sipping her drink, gazing into the crowd. Chimed, "Today, I don't care!" She drank up, getting RJ's mild disapproval, but also making him call for a refill of their drinks. He took her hand and pulled her to dance. She jumped to it, the two taking off, flying to the deep-bass hip-hop music. Joyous. Intoxicating.

After several songs, she danced back to the bar, grabbing bits of food, drinking the water. Laughing hard. RJ joining in. The two watched the club again. Tea's mild drunk didn't prevent her from seeing that client again. He was more than familiar… she knew exactly who he was but didn't want to think about it because he meant trouble and she just didn't want the think about the end of the evening.

Even RJ could see her happiness. "You happy with the breather?" He leaned in close, so close, his fancy cologne smelling delicious, his boozy breath, sexy. He touched the edges of her hair, moved a hand to her arm, "Baby girl… why don't you get away from him? Your breather can be permanent."

She put her hand on his chest, her face tight with a deep ache being revealed, "RJ-"

"Shit...forget I said that. This is our life. Yours. Mine. I will always be here for your _breathers."_ He glanced around, seeing Tea eyeing men across the way again. "What you lookin' at out there, woman?"

Sighing heavily, she rolled her eyes, knowing the bliss was over. "You have _Serrano _soldiers in here. Posse doesn't deal with them, right?"

"No, they banned. You sure?" He turned casually, leaning back against the bar. Studying his customers.

"Oh yeah, one of them is my client. In the red shirt over there, in that corner, by the door. Definitely _Los Serranos_."

RJ licked his lips, smiling slightly. His eyes, though looked serious. "This ain't their place. Shouldn't be here." Called over one of his guards. Filled him in. "Just watch 'em." The guy took off. Normally, the bouncers caught serious color, but these guys managed to get in anyway. Security breach that'd be looked into.

She turned around again, taking in the men in the room. Seeing MK men, too. "RJ… you have MK soldiers moving towards them. Something's happening."

"Awww damn it. This ain't a sanctioned meet and their ain't no truce I know about. They like oil and water." He nodded at one of his men, looked back at Tea. "Girl, think it's time you head home."

"Oh I don't think so, Gannon. I'm staying put."

He got pissed, but didn't fight her. "Fine, then get your sweet ass into my office."

"As you wish."

A woman floated by, a beautiful black woman, tall, sharp angles, her hair in a tight short stylish Afro, wearing a short dress that showed her high breasts, her long legs. Feet snug in platforms. She wasn't a waitress, she was much more, something different. He stopped her, told her to get drinks, food, bring it back. There was a real closeness there. He didn't say much, she understood everything. Tea followed RJ back, but she turned her head, watching the woman walk away. He didn't think, obviously, so used to her in his life. RJ left her to take care of business so Tea got comfy in his office, on his couch, nursing her drink.

Waiting for the beautiful woman. _Jovanna, _Todd's whore.

When she arrived, she balanced a tray with drinks, more of that delicious food. She bent professionally and arranged everything on the coffee table. She didn't smile but when she was done, she glanced up with a knowing look on her face. Something she couldn't help. Looking a little too deeply at Tea.

"You have something to say to me?" Tea asked, crossing her arms. "You know me?"

"Yeah, you Ms. Delgado-Manning, married to Mr. Manning. You is a lawyer, pretty important, too." She stood tall, looking down at Tea. Not unintentionally.

"And you sell my husband drugs, you… have sex with him. He pays you. You're a whore." Tea picked up her drink, sucked it down. Studied the woman in front of her. Certainly, the term, "whore" was insulting. She knew she came off as a bitter wife. The drinks had gone to her head fast.

Jovanna smiled, just a side corner smile. Asked smoothly, "You want something from me, sista?" What she was offering wasn't clear… but Tea figured it was a sexual offer.

"No, thank you. You servicing one of us is enough."

Jovanna smiled, started to talk, but Tea got to her feet, now, getting eye to eye. "Oh I know what you're gonna say. That your activities are _limited_. I've heard it. RJ tells me what he thinks I need to hear. No matter. He let you in… he's wildly private… and he let you in. You're something to him. What you don't know is that you are nothing but a manifestation of his sickness."

This woman was very different from Brandy, and the MK whore, too. She seemed sure, confident. She was healthy. Tea took her in, surprised at how little seeing this person up close affected her. Sure she felt hate, anger… but not crazily so. Why? Jovanna smiled tightly, started to turn once more. Ready to leave. Walking away.

"No, let me look at you," Tea murmured. Jovanna stopped, took a breath and turned to face Tea. They kept their eyes on each other. They shared something. Tea hated it. Hated the woman that stood tall in front of her, completely unnerved.

Jovanna nodded her head in response. "Whatchu want with me?"

Tea sniffed, shook that drink in her hand, the ice clinking against the glass. She set it down. Put her hands on her hips, felt pretty fucking confident herself. "I want a conversation."

"'Bout what? What can I possibly conversate with you on?"

"Do you love him?"

"No, girl, I don't. He a client of mine, that's all. He all business. He pay me, I give him what he wants. We don't talk much, you feel me? 'Sides, he ain't my type." She smiled. "I more into the… chocolate variety." Jovanna paused, "You done talkin'?"

Tea looked the girl up and down, said crisply, "No. I want you to STOP doing business with my husband. I want you to STOP selling dope to him or providing any other services. And I want you to tell every other whore in this place to do the same: STOP doing BUSINESS with Todd Manning, understand?"

"And what difference will that make, sista? You think he gonna stop using dope 'cause we don't make it available to him?" She chuckled, "His needs go way beyond this club."

"Oh I know that. But this club, is MY place. It's been my place for a long while and it's gonna keep being my place and because of that, I need to know that I am not a part and parcel of his heroin addiction. I'm not your boss, I'm not anything to you, but I need to know he is NOT getting drugs from this place, MY place. Do you… understand?"

Jovanna nodded, shrugged. Her superiority seeming to be cut down a bit. Sad eyes, almost. "Ms. Manning, he is a hard man to say 'no' to. Fact is, when he around, we ALL do what he want us to. He been in this place a long time, too. The Posse and MK… they partners of a sort."

"So? Saying no would do what? Has he hurt you, threatened you… raped you?"

"None a'that. No…"

"Then you can say NO. I'm pretty sure I'll have RJ back me up. You are… to stay away from my husband. If you don't, I will do something about it."

"What would that be?"

Tea smiled, "You will be out of a job. Anyone who says yes to him will be out of a job."

Jovanna sighed, crossed her arms. "That won't work, sista."

"Why not?"

The air in the room seemed to stop moving, a certain quietness coming over Jovanna. Her smartness showing itself like a beacon, her seriousness. She wasn't Brandy, not by a long shot.

"If I stop responding to him," Jovanna said, "he will find another girl to meet his needs. He'll find someone who won't turn down the money, who'll hide it from Mr. Gannon. Don't forget neither, that he will _always_ have his own MK girls who CANNOT turn him down. They gotta code to abide by. They believe that your husband, the man you lie in bed with every night, the man who tucks your babies in and kisses they hot little heads, MK girls believe that if they say no to him, he will HURT them. Leticia… his main MK girl, she spread that story of him. Leticia has seen a very dark side to your husband. We have all watched him act out with MK men. Those girl will NEVER say no to him. So… even if you got this club locked down… he will always get his way."

She had Tea dead to rights. The absurdity of her proposal glared like a neon sign. "Well...you got me."

"Ms. Manning, we under Mr. Gannon, are much freer to decide what to give and what not to give. Especially ME. I am not as afraid of him as the other girls. Where they give in to his… wants… I don't have to."

Tea cocked her head, curious now. "So you're saying you can say no…"

"Let me finish. I have something in mind."

"Okay, go on."

"I have learned something of your man. You is scared of his addiction. I get that. But like you say, his whores is part of his sickness." She paused, thinking of the exact words to say. She definitely was going somewhere. Tea felt like a judge, allowing counsel to stray…for a point.

"If you cut the whores out of his...sickness, he will go to straight to the needle. There will be nobody to interfere with his wants. Las' time I saw him, he was gonna shoot up."

"The last time…" Tea was trying to think of when Todd was at the club last...the last month being a blur, really.

"He had me get everything. He stood on that dance floor and asked me to get it all for him, the spike, the dope, the cord. We drove around until he found a place where he could shoot up. That night, I interefered. I didn't just do as he ask. I gotta conscience. No I don't love him but I saw the seriousness of that sickness. So I gave him my body to use instead of a needle. I interefered. I am sure he would have gone to you… but you see… he couldn't 'cause you was with RJ. He had caught you… here. With RJ."

Tea closed her eyes a long moment. "With RJ. Here in his office." The music seemed to get louder, the noise pounding. She looked at Jovanna, who kept a serious gaze on Tea. "What do you mean, you… gave him your body. I thought he pretty much stuck to...those limits…"

"Not that night. He was in a real bad place. He told me a bit of himself. How he used to be, how he got into it bad. I saw the marks on his arm. He was dark, real dark. He… uh… wanted it so bad he pricked himself with that needle, just to feel something of it again. I believed that had he dosed up like he wanted,he would die. I felt it, I saw it. So I gave myself to him, far beyond his limits and he took it. He declined the heroin; I _interfered_ with his wants."

She reached a hand out, gently laying it on Tea's shoulder, "Let me be his contact here. Let things stay just as they are. I will tell you how he be doing with it. I will tell you if he seems to be using more or less. I will see that the dope he gets is cut, making it less potent. I will make sure everything is safe for him. That is, IF he falling off the wagon. I am not your enemy, Ms. Manning. I know it seem… unconventional. But until you decide that you gonna be his drug dealer, he won't go to you with his needs. That's the truth. I am so sorry to say that."

And so it was.

Tea sat on the couch, dropping down, defeated, really. She hated losing control. For a second she almost had control over the world. She almost felt that she could fix Todd by cutting off his supply. The absurdity of it glared in front of her, fucking neon.

"Shit," she murmured.

The couch dipped and Tea turned to see this beautiful woman next to her. "You is a brave lady to be here, to be talking to me without killing me. I don't love him, I got no sites on taking away your man, on that I want to be REAL CLEAR. But I lost people to dope before. When I saw that he was in real pain, pain I recognized, I stepped outside my boundaries. I crossed them lines he so attached to. I used his trust of me… to do something no MK girl can do."

Tea leaned her head back, staring up at the lights. This was crazy. A crazy damn idea.

Jovanna asked gently, "Do we gotta deal? Can I keep being his contact…? And you be my boss in this regard? This way, you will KNOW shit. His business be _controlled,_ without him knowing it. But if you still want to shut the club down from your husband… I will respect that. I will make sure he can't get nothing from nobody. HERE. And if that's the case, he will just get MK product, get off from MK girls… and because nobody will interfere with him, he will get to mainlining again. I saw it, I felt it… it will happen. Unless he get sober, of course. Then none of this make no difference no how. He sober, he won't be going to no whore at all."

Tea eyed the woman, Todd's whore. She bit down, breathed, eyes straight ahead, staring into the unknown. She nodded. "Of course." She reached for her purse, pulled out her business card. Handed it to Jovanna. "Call me tomorrow. We'll switch numbers. Thank you…?"

"Like I say, this might be _unconventional._ But I doubt you is much convention anyway, being married to Mr. Manning of all people, being a lover to RJ Gannon and none too shy about it, being a lawyer for people like me, for people like my brothers in the Posse... You ain't no pussycat to be living that kinda life, girl."

Tea nodded, "You're probably right on that."

RJ walked in and stopped cold seeing the tension, the light going off in his head. "Awww… shit…"

The two women looked at him, sharp looks on their faces, accusatory looks. Jovanna getting up, passing by RJ. "Man, you is a real piece a'work, puttin' us together like this. What the fuck you thinkin' about?"

"Get outta here, Jo', I got business."

"Yeah, I bet you do."

He grabbed her arm, not hard, but purposefully. "I'm sorry. But can you do something for me?"

"What you want?"

"Get all the girls out. Go home. There's a bad game out there."

"Yes, Mr. Gannon… will do." She glanced back at Tea, winked, cracked a small sad smile and left.

Tea leaned forward, drank yet another drink that Jovanna had brought. RJ got real close to her, "You okay? I...forgot that you knew about her. I'm sorry, baby girl. I'd have asked someone else. Just didn't think."

"No, you didn't. No matter. What about out there?"

"Shit's happening, just like you thought. _Los Serranos_ snuck in here, come chasing MK. Words is startin'. Where your fuckin' husband at? He needs to come down here. He needs to fuckin' diffuse this shit or all hell's gonna break loose."

Tea shrugged. "Call him. But RJ, Todd doesn't diffuse...he blows things up."

RJ considered that truth. Thought he'd give it a shot anyway. "Blowing things up is happening right now. Those men ain't listening… and I'm thinking Manning might be heard."

"Why not call LPD. They'll get those guys out."

"I can't… goes against code."

"Gang code."

He nodded, "Yeah. Just how it is."

* * *

><p>RJ Gannon saw that Todd Manning must be at the door. The way people moved around him, like cells in a petri dish...trembling. All of it told RJ Manning had brought his cool, brought his deep-running hate. He brought his… <em>dog?<em> RJ walked the edge of the club until he got to the front, where Todd stood in all his MK glory, looking mean, looking dangerous. He wore his boots, wore a long black jacket, had a plum shirt on, open, showing color. Had some of that hair tied back to show the tattoos on his neck. He was representing, and representing GOOD. He had several men with him, Rolon, more MK soldiers. Even his fuckin' dog looked mean. Goddamn pitbull.

"Nice, Manning…the hell is with the dog?"

"Where's Tea ?"

"Tell me about this fuckin' dog, and I'll tell you about Tea."

After a second or two of pissed-off-ness, Todd capitulated. "Meet Abram, my new friend. Don't come too close to me or he'll bite your fuckin' face off." Todd grinned tightly. Then didn't. "Where is she?"

"She's fine, in my office, and no, you asshole, we ain't together. We got more pressing problems, man."

"Can you get her home?"

RJ shook his head, "Nah, she one stubborn girl. Refuses."

"You weak."

"Fuck you. Pressing matters."

"Where are they? I can't see shit in here."

"Just listen. Just look."

Todd did just that… and it took thirty seconds. He saw his men, and saw seven to ten members of _Los Serranos_. They were all trash talking. It was tense. "How long this been going on?"

"I called you as soon as I saw this shit. My men is real nervous. We have asked them all real nicely to leave and they ain't havin' it. Your men neither. I'm giving you one shot. It don't stop, my men start taking out MK AND Serranos."

Todd eyed RJ a moment, turned to Rolon and conferred quietly. RJ spied Tea across the room, outside the office. Watching. RJ cursed her under his breath, growled at a guard to get her back inside, sending Sweet Joe, a monster of a man.

RJ then grabbed Todd by the arm, getting the men all excited, Abram growling… but Todd put his hand up to settle them and yanked on that leash. RJ hissed, "You gonna be able to do this? I don't want a fuckin' war in my club. And your woman… she ain't leaving. I don't want her _at risk_."

Rolon answered. "Gannon, a war is already on. Put your men on warning, get people out. _Serranos_ are here tonight and it isn't to dance to your shit _musica_. They want blood. Now, why here? Maybe they planning to take out the Posse - whatever is going on in their thick-as-brick heads, your _neutrality_ is over. Sorry… this ain't gonna be fixed."

Letting out a hard growl, RJ cursed, "FUCK…"

Todd caught Tea's eye. She knocked her head back, crossed her arms. Everything about her stance said 'fuck you' to him. They held one another tightly…she shook her head because she knew, all he could think was what she was doing in Gannon's club. He was furious. Turned to RJ, Todd purred, ""What you wanna do, Gannon? We can end this right now, real fast, or I can try talking."

RJ looked at Todd. He was different. Something…hard to put a finger on. Ah. He was in charge of a Cuban army. Who wouldn't be full of themselves? And he wasn't high. Manning was a fuckin' force when he wasn't high. RJ hated him. High, not high, in charge, not in charge. Pure hate. RJ snarled, "And how would you end it without talking first?"

Grinning, Rolon leaned in and said softly, snapping his fingers, "I kill the big guy. Right now. His men will scatter like the pussies they are. Poof!"

Sighing, RJ snapped, "TALK first. I need to time to get rid of innocents." He turned to his men, "Get everyone out. Club's closed." He pointed a finger at Todd… "TALK!"

"As you wish, my man."

Todd moved across the floor, moved like a snake in grass, Rolon to his left, the other to the right. He stood real still behind the group of Serrano men who were still talking shit to MK soldiers. They'd just been out for the night. Seemed the Serranos hit the club because of Alfredo Castellano, the head the gambling division. He was young but damn smart at gaming, hand-picked by Todd himself. Started out low… but shined.

Serranos wanted HIM out.

Though the club was beginning to empty, the music still played. Loud, thumping, a bass line that shook a man's insides. Todd reached into his pocket, felt the knife. Felt good. His MK soldiers saw him and quieted.

Rolon spoke up, "What's happening, my friends?"

It took all of ten seconds for the Serrano men to turn. They backed up fast and hard except one. Big dude, one of the up and coming Serranos nicknamed, Baby Joker, 'cause of a scar that caused one corner of his mouth to turn up. He was colored heavy. Yeah, he was high up. Gave him confidence. Confidence he shouldn't have had.

He got eye to eye with Todd. Spat, "_Pues orale!_ Look who came to the party, chicken-shit _Blanco, _come to save the day. Whatchu you gonna do, take our Cuban cigars? Make us cry?" The other Serrano men laughed. Baby rattling on. Spitting as he talked. The dog at Todd's side was growling, low and slow.

Todd smiled, eyebrows up, waiting for more. "What do you want? Why you here talking to my men, in Posse territory? This place is neutral. You… are out out of your playpen."

Baby Joker was shorter than Todd, made the power balance obvious. Baby Joker, though, was one of those men that didn't seem to notice.

"We been askin' to meet with you, with Moreno, with anyone in charge. But I get silence, ese. I get disrespected. I call and call and nobody answer me. So I thought maybe I make some noise, maybe one of you assholes show up to talk to me." He poked Todd in the chest, who backed his head up, looking down at that finger. "I know you close to the Posse, _Senor Blanco_… I know you just a rainbow man. Got your dick in all kinds of color, brown, white, yellow...BLACK. Hahaha. _Y mira, _the plan worked. Here you are. Here you are in the _pinche_ flesh."

"Here I am. So talk. What the fuck do you WANT?"

"You know what we want. We want the numbers game. You been dominating too long. We want in. If we get in, we stop killing the Irish, stop tearing down MK. We call a truce."

"That ain't negotiating - that's just extortion. You all can't do numbers. We been watching your one game. You're shit at it."

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck YOU. You suck at numbers. You don't know how it works, you don't know the subtle fixing of odds, the encouragement you need to bring in players. The gentle manipulations, the hard manufacturing of winners and losers. You don't know SHIT. Stick to your distributions. That's what you're good at. Schools, college kids, the projects… low-end is your specialty."

"Fuck you, bitch! We keep shooting you down then."

Todd got real close. "You need to leave. This ain't the place to talk deals. You serious, I will come to you with something workable."

"No, _ese_, we do this now. Or ain't you got closing power?" He leaned forward, "Is your dick just too soft to do the job right?"

Todd smiled. A smile that Tea saw from across the room now that the club was mostly empty. Customers were gone, leaving nothing but warriors. That was a bad look. She backed up. Sweet Joe stood next to her.

"It isn't going well," she said.

"No, it ain't. Let me take you to your car."

"No. I'm staying."

Todd said in response, "You want me to close a deal tonight? Right here?"

"Yeah, bitch. Or else people will DIE. I wanna deal. I want your numbers game. I want in."

"What percentage?"

"I want 80 percent."

All the MK people laughed. "80?" Rolon mimicked. "You want 80 percent?"

"Hey, hey… don't laugh, Rolon...he want 80. Sure, but you pay us for every dollar you stupid ass loses. I figure you'll end up with… oh...owing us money."

Baby Joker's face got red, infuriated, knowing Todd and Rolon were making fun of him. "You will give me those games," he growled, "or I will kill every motherfucker in here. Especially YOU."

"How many times will you kill me, 80?"

"FUCK YOU!"

Rolon eyed Todd. Gave a look that meant only one thing. Each Serrano man had an MK soldier on them. They were stupid. They felt bigger than their britches. They had no fucking idea. Todd chuckled, "Like I said, this ain't the time and place. Mr. Gannon is nice enough to keep this place neutral-"

"_Blanco,_" Baby tried again, "_Ese._..where is this _time and place_? Rumor says you were in rehab. That where you want to meet? In the rehab?"

Todd shook his head, quiet. "I'll let-"

"Oh _Blanco, _come on! Deal tonight. Turn over your tables. Turn over your games. You don't want that trouble. I can _feel_ it."

"Bring your top man-"

"You know what? I think all that rehab got you fucked in the head." He leaned forward, playing at whispering, "Hey, hey, I heard you got a thing for dick, I heard you like them boys, YOUNG… I heard you like… _Mexican brown!"_ They all laughed at the slang for heroin, Baby laughing hardest, grabbing his cock and staring down Todd. "You want my _Mexican brown, Blanco? _Huh? Or am I way too old for you?! Hahaha! You want one of my young and fresh Mexicans? Will that help you deal with us?" He grabbed his cock more, sliding close to Todd, "Come suck it, bitch, come suck it 80 times... I heard that's the best high of all!"

Rolon had it, moving to get at this guy but Todd was faster, one hand at the throat of Baby Joker and the other with a knife at the guy's face. The Baby's hands flew up, had a good hold of Todd's hair and arm with the knife. Baby was shocked, hardly able to breathe for the hold of his trachea Todd had. His legs kicked out and his eyes widened.

At the same time, every MK soldier manned every Serrano, each one having a knife at the other. The Serranos all had guns… they felt confident they'd take the Cubans. Nobody was moving. The Posse surrounded all of them, all licensed to carry registered arms.

"Yeah," Todd growled, face hot against Baby's, "That's right, bitch, I'm into _Mexican brown DICK, _and I'm a take your _Mexican brown DICK, _I'm a cut it off and shove it up yo' _Mexican brown _ass so deep you're gonna die suckin' that _Mexican brown DICK_…"

He looked hard into those brown eyes of Baby Jokers and said in perfect Spanish..._"al igual que tu hermano Jessie Horenda._ Remember him? Remember how he DIED? With his dick...in his MOUTH, suckin' it. Tell your men to get the fuck outta here or I'm gonna make a big grown up Joker outta you, sucking your own DICK. Hear me, _Baby? YOU HEAR ME, BITCH?_"

The only noise was a hard rap coming from the DJ. He was behind the sound system, grinning and hot and bopping to the tune. RJ was in the back, standing against the bar. Tea stood at the entrance of RJ's office, seeing her husband… in MK colors, representing good. Representing proper. She heard his words all across that floor. He scared the hell out of her. He was the fourth year con, he was wild with hate, with deadly power, he had no conscience…

"Jesus," she gasped. Sweet Joe turned, "Girl… get into that office…"

Baby Joker stared hard, deciding words to say, choking in that vicious grip. Todd growled, "Tell your men to stand down and get the fuck out…"

Baby then picked a plan, after a few seconds more, croaking, "Kill every one of them, _mis hermanos Serrano_! EVERY ONE OF THESE MOTHERFUCKERS!" Then banged his head forward into Todd, only to have Todd dig the knife deep into the chest of Baby, twice more for good measure, just as Abram jumped high and bit Baby's throat, Baby seizing with the death blows, bleeding like a stuck pig, the dog at his throat still and not letting go.

All hell broke loose just as RJ knew it would, so he booked it toward his office, yelling at Joe, "Get her inside, get her INSIDE!"

Todd yelled, a primal kinda yell, dropping that man hard….looked up… saw his wife's eyes across the room. She did not move, she did not breathe. Sweet Joe, grabbed her, pulled her into the office. The door slamming.

MK fast, fast, disarmed the inexperienced Serrano men, taking their weapons and tossing them away. The Serranos taking on MK, resorting to hand-to-hand combat, MK beating them down, skilled with knives, deadly with knives...the Posse pulling out weapons, aiming, ready to fire at their captain's call. Todd stepped back, letting his men do the work, as he was always supposed to do… watching Baby bleed out, holding Abram back, kneeling cooly, petting his dog, purring, "Yeah, yeah…how that feel, Baby Joker… how it feel to choke on your own dick..."

This… this he knew, this real dog fight, Todd knew. He'd been in so many similar fights in Statesville, this practically felt like fucking home. He breathed calmly, reached down and dragged a finger through the spreading blood. Held the dog to him. He jumped back when two men landed hard, MK man slicing the throat of a Serrano. Todd laughed a little manically, grabbing the hand of the soldier and pulling him up, pushing him back into the fray.

"Finish them, finish them," he said.

Everyone fought hand-to-hand. Up close and personal. The screams were ugly and violent and deadly.

Tea got pushed back into the office by Sweet Joe, the door slamming shut, locking. She couldn't breathe, panting, hearing the insanity outside the door. Sweet Joe, a monster of a man, looked concerned. Listened. Watched a screen showing black and white pandemonium. Had a massive gun pointed at the door. Tea stood next to him. Watching Todd… he simply stood by, holding that leash… he was so disconnected. He was so familiar. He was so comfortable.

"I don't know that man," Tea whispered.

"They hand fighting, MK men disarmed those Serranos fast," he said, more to himself than her. All of a sudden someone was kicking the door, kicking hard. Tea backed up hard, pulled out her nine, long having stashed it in her waistband, and aimed it at the door. Outside, guns started firing.

That was the Posse shutting the shit down. Sweet Joe yelled, "Get behind the desk! NOW!" Aiming at the door, seeing it bulge with each kick. He didn't want to fire because he had no idea who was behind that door and he just couldn't take a chance at killing MK or Posse. Sure enough, though, a bloody Serrano broke through and before Joe had a chance to fire, shot Sweet Joe in the belly, the guy falling like a stack of cards.

Tea bit down and aimed her weapon, and just as the guy turned to her, mere seconds, she blasted the hell outta him, two, three, four bullets center mass. He went down. She jumped across the floor to Joe and held hard a pillow off the couch, pressing the blood. He was out but not dead. She pressed hard and just listened, not wanting anyone to know she was back here, in case the winners of this battle were Serrano men.

The shots stopped. Someone was yelling, Abram was barking, and she got real scared that he was barking to protect a downed Todd. But, but… the yelling, that was Rolon. And now Todd. And now RJ. She breathed a hard breath out. They were still standing. Tea thanked god, praying wildly. Thanking god like she'd never thanked God before. Sirens blared from a distance. The club obviously on the LPD radar. She pressed down, "Come on, Joe… come on. Stay with me."

She now yelled, "RJ! RJ!"

"This is on YOU, Manning, YOU!" RJ was pushing him in the chest and Todd took a swing, missing RJ who smiled and punched right back, getting a good one in. Rolon pulled Todd back, yelling, "Not now! NOT NOW, 'mano! The cops are coming… leave the place to Gannon, leave it!"

Abram had taken a leap at RJ for the punch but Todd pulled him back, giving into Rolon's strength and wisdom.

"Fine, fine, FINE!" Todd yelled back, putting his hands up. "Those fuckers meant to tear this place up! We saved your fucking club from a whole lot more! They had heat! Everyone of them! Them getting in is on YOU, Gannon! You got a fuckin' traitor in here! Clean your house!"

"I'm done with MK, you got me? DONE!"

"Yeah? Ask your Posse captain, then tell me whether you be done!"

"I don't need no fuckin' permission to ban MK FROM MY FUCKIN' CLUB, you fucking CUNT!"

Todd didn't answer, sidetracked all of a sudden, turning his head, "Tea…" RJ stopped, too, hearing her now. The two men moved fast, hopping over bodies, feeling the slick blood beneath their feet. RJ hit his office first, seeing first a body in the doorway, chest well blown out, then Tea on the ground, her hands on Joe's belly. She turned, "He's dying, bastard shot him."

"Fuck!" RJ got to his knees and took over pressing that belly. He looked at Tea, "You okay?"

She didn't get a chance to answer, Todd grabbing Tea into his arms, yanking her up to her feet. "Jesus, jesus…" He stepped back, pulling her away, her back against his chest. She managed to get out of his grip, looking at him like he was an alien.

"Stay away from me," she said, pulling out her weapon, pointing it at him. Everyone stepped back.

"Tea…," Todd whispered.

"You...YOU are a monster."

Todd breathed hard, his hands out. "Tea… Delgado…"

Tears rolled down her face, "I killed that man, he shot Joe. He shot him. That bastard was going to kill me, too. But I SHOT him. Thanks to RJ teaching me to shoot. Giving me this gun… and now I'm gonna use it on you. To put all of us out of OUR misery… that is YOU."

Rolon spoke out, "_Mamita..._think okay, think like a lawyer… you got no defense here. If you kill him…you got no defense. He's not armed."

RJ turned, "WOMAN! I will take care of him for you… but god, please call 911, for Joe… we HAVE to get help! PLEASE! PUT THE GUN DOWN!"

Tea turned her head slightly, her hands tight on that gun. She dragged her eyes back to Todd. Holding him there… "I loved you. Tonight… you killed… my love for YOU." She put the gun back into her waistband. Walked calmly to the couch and got her phone.

Todd breathed out, but didn't move. Frozen in place. Confused. Rolon whispered thickly, "Cops are comin', brother, we gotta split." Todd looked at his hand and saw a lot of blood. Remembered touching the cloth of red on the floor. Shook his head, "Go… I'll stay. I was here. Visiting my friend, with my wife…I'll be fine. Get everyone and go."

Minutes later, the place was crawling with cops, the coroner's reps, the paramedics. All in all ten men died, all Serranos. Guns had been put back into their hands. Posse presented it as an attack on RJ's club.

It was a clean defense.

Bo Buchanan walked into RJ's office, stepping over the blood from the now-taken-away Serrano soldier. He stood in the doorway. Tea sat on the couch, pale and shaken. Todd was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, head down. RJ was next to Tea, holding her hand, giving her a glass of water, encouraging her to drink it down.

"Well," Bo drawled. "What...the hell… happened?"

Todd was about to talk, but Tea spoke first. Pointed her finger at Todd, she snapped, "SHUT UP." Todd tightened his lips and leaned back against the wall.

She looked at Bo and said, "We were attacked by these Serrano gang members. They tried to kill everyone in this club. They must have decided to make a name for themselves. RJ's guards, shot them before they could do much damage. But not before some other local gang members decided to slice them up, men who quickly left before you arrived."

RJ nodded, Todd shrugged. Abram yawned and lay down at Todd's feet. Bo looked at the dog. "That yours?"

"Yup. Rescue. Terrible thing people do to these sweet dogs."

Bo rubbed the bridge of his nose. Glanced at RJ. "Your guard...he was shot… he'll be okay, the paramedics say. Who shot the man… the one that was here."

Todd pointed at Tea. "She's like a modern-day Annie Oakley. My little angel."

"That true, Tea? You took this guy out?"

"He shot Joe. He was about to kill me. Yes, I made sure he'd not fire another shot."

"Nicely done."

"My angel…," Todd sighed, looking at Tea who was throwing so much shade at him. He tried to smile, but his face just didn't work that way. He sighed heavily and studied the ceiling.

* * *

><p>The house was quiet. Tea walked slowly through the living room to the kitchen. She'd insisted on being taken home. She wanted to be alone. RJ begged her to stay with him, Todd asking that she go to Viki's place, but shut them down cold. She couldn't stand the sight of either of them, but mostly Todd. She stared at him, dead-eyed, telling him in no uncertain terms…<p>

"Stay the fuck away from me, from our children. If you come near me or them, I will kill you."

She knew it hurt him. She didn't care. Was her husband even capable of being hurt? He was… a monster, truly. Everyone had tried to warn her of it. Bo, Brayden, RJ, Jed, Shonda Dixon… even Jovanna, tonight. Most of all, Todd himself had tried to warn her. _I am a monster. _That night when he was first interrogated by Bo, he warned her. That night, when Bo had shaken out of him a wildness she hadn't ever seen before.

Sitting at the counter, she could not shake the vision of him threatening that Serrano soldier. The dark glee he showed at getting the better of that stupid man. He basically admitted to the killing of Horenda, telling with ease that the man's cock had been cut off and stuffed in his mouth. A point that had been hidden from public record. A point… that only the real killer would know.

Then… she had the honor of watching him kill that same man, with ease, with great efficient skill. None of it took much out of him. He pulled the knife out and grabbed his dog, stepping back easily. She could not shake the image of him watching the unfolding chaos without care, petting the puppy, like… like…he was watching a baseball game. He started a war and let his men finish it. He was in command. He knew it, he liked it.

She could not shake the image of him reaching down and touching the blood. He was so unmoved. She could not shake the image of a small grin on his face. Peter Moreno would have been proud to see the control, the swift issuance of MK justice.

Not a man lost. Not an enemy alive.

Tea drank a glass of milk. Ate some cookies. Tears rolled down her face, hot, hurt, mortified. She found she could not stop crying. She finally put her head on her arms on that cold counter and just cried. Deep, soulful sobs that wracked her body. She had no choice.

She could not stay married to Todd Manning, the next head of the Mambo Kings. As much as she thought herself capable of being the queen… she could not be that.

He had not survived Statesville. She had been so sure on that day when he walked out of there… that broken walk, that wonderful smile. When he'd held little Reese nine months later… the baby conceived on the day he returned, a child borne from desperate love on the hard floor of the stairwell because they could not wait to get upstairs...when he held Reese in that delivery room, it was like he was a man renewed. Face covered with a mask, all she could see were his wet eyes, open, sweet, moved. A man filled with love. He had laid his heavy head next to her, while Reese lay n her arms on that delivery table, her and Reese exhausted from the labor. He had said, _I love you. You saved me._

He seemed happy. He enjoyed his children and wife. He had finally begun to love Tea like a man at peace. She had truly believed he had come home at last. He had SURVIVED Peter, his own crimes, mental illness, heroin addiction and Brandy, and Statesville.

Or so she thought. GOD, she'd been so blind. Images flashed before her, his madness in the interrogation room, the repeated burns on his wrist, the pinned eyes, the battle with that man at the club with Jed next to her, his nightmares, his hot desperate need for her to bite him in moments of passion, the fear on Leticia's face when he bore down on her to tell him about Rolon, Rolon's own near killing of Todd in the basement at the newspaper office… bits and pieces of the truth.

She thought he had broken her earlier, with the whores, with his lies over his heroin use… no, no… he always has a greater secret for her to learn, a greater weapon against her soul.

Always, always… something more. Throwing her head back, she screamed at the top of her lungs, throwing the glass across the kitchen. Watched the glass explode on the tiles. Sat there, breathing hard, spent.

She heard the front door, keys in the lock. It clicked open.

Behind her, he spoke, his voice tired, wounded. He said simply, _"Tea…"_

She turned around, locking eyes with her husband. Black suited him, his long hair hanging in his face, hurt burned across his rough features… his _hurt_… that deep, endless _hurt_ that stole her heart and killed her soul.

Tea Delgado reached into her waistband, pulled out her nine, and aimed at him. In her memory of it, time had slowed to a crawl. He shook his head,_ no, no…_ those platinum locks catching light…his hands coming up, moving in front of him… beautiful, big, strong, capable, loving hands… hands reaching forward to stop those bullets, like Superman...

_...Delgado, no, no..._

... and she shot him. Center mass. Once, twice.

Just like RJ taught her.

**To be continued...**


	36. Chapter 36

**Caged**

Chapter 36

Bo Buchanan squinted at the morning light coming in through Llanview General's hallway windows. Watch said 8:30 a.m. and the place was hopping, Llanview residents either working as nurses, doctors, staff, or visiting sick loved ones or coming in for tests. Place was busy and his shoes fell heavily. Probably all that bad food. He rubbed his belly, chuckling at Nora's calling him Buddha. His mind instantly went back to business.

_Tea Marisa Delgado-Manning, mother, wife, criminal defense lawyer… shooter in Llanview's most recent high profile case. _

Hot property. She hit the newsstands this morning: Lady Lawyer Guns Down Todd Manning.

The Star newspaper didn't mince words. Not laughing at its owner-editor's new life as a gun violence victim in a chemically-induced coma with two 9mm bullets having torn through his chest two days before. Everyone was talking, everyone asking...

_Tea, Tea, what in God's name happened?_

The scene at the Manning estate had been that of a goddamn madhouse. Cops had smashed through the door, yelling commands, weapons drawn. When they aimed their guns at RJ who was all over Todd trying to keep him from bleeding out, he lost his mind about them assuming a black man was the perp.

"I'm trying to save this asshole's fuckin' life, you racist motherfuckers! GET THE PARAMEDICS IN HERE GOD FUCKIN" DAMNIT!"

The shock of the whole thing shook her into silence. She stood in that kitchen in Gannon's arms, her face a white mask of disbelief while paramedics feverishly tried to stabilize Manning enough to even transport him to the hospital. He was a real mess, coughing up blood, choking, bleeding out the two holes in front and the two in the back, his lungs not knowing what to do with the sudden bloom of blood. Worst part was that in short work he started having a seizure, at which point Tea's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she passed out, fainting into RJ's arms and getting the place in that much more of an uproar.

Fact was, nobody imagined the shooter to be Tea herself. When reality dawned on the officers, they trained their weapons on the lady lawyer. By the time the paramedics got Manning into the ambulance, blood was all over the floor, RJ was ready to bring the city down in a new civil rights riot, and Tea was in police custody.

_Tea, what happened?_

She couldn't answer the question, tears rolling down that porcelain face, RJ being her fuming yelling defender. "If she shot him, there was a goddamn good reason! What?! You're arresting her?! Don't answer questions, baby girl! Don't you answer a goddamn question!"

Manning was lucky… Bo sighed. _Lucky?_ Yes. RJ's arrival on premises gave Manning a fighting chance to live, nearly dying thanks to Tea shooting heavy duty ammo at close-range. Yeah, Gannon acted fast. Slammed his hands on gaping bullet holes, probably threatened Manning into breathing through the choking blood coming up into his mouth. They didn't exactly have a _cooperative_ relationship - Bo could only imagine what RJ must have been yelling. When Bo got to the house, RJ was still covered in blood spray from Todd coughing out his insides all over him.

_What were you doing there, Gannon?_

_I was watching the house - she wanted to be alone, I wasn't gonna let her. Not after the night we had at my club. Speaking of which, you gonna do anything about those Serrano bastards?! Or what, you guys don't give a shit about a black man's business?!_

_Stick to the point. Why did you go inside the Manning house?_

_I heard the gunshots! I ran inside! _

_Kinda risky, no?  
><em>

_I lead a risky life! I ain't gonna wait for cops outside my best friend's house. I go IN._

_Manning's your best friend?_

_TEA DELGADO is._

_You don't say. Does Manning know about that?_

Bo stood outside the intensive care unit. _Family only, fifteen minute intervals._ Gannon was wildly defensive of Tea. He'd been upset, rattled, desperate to know Tea was okay. Hard to say, really. Traumatized, yes, panicked, yes, broken hearted. She managed though to pull herself together enough to start defending herself. Delgado was lawyer first, human being second. She said she wasn't going to answer questions until she knew Todd's outcome. With a shaky voice, she said, "Life or death. I need to know. Once I know, I'll be able to think." Tears started rolling, a trembling hand up to her mouth, "I just can't think right now."

He pushed open the doors to see the most dire of Llanview patients all getting tended to by Llanview's best. It was a noisy place. Who could sleep? And shouldn't they be sleeping to get better?

In the far corner was the largest of the glass-walled rooms. There was a person on that bed connected to so many machines and tubes you couldn't see exactly who it was. But the fact that it was Todd Manning was unmistakable thanks to the visible tattoos, thanks to the over-attendance by staff. Bo cocked his head as he walked, eyeing the last indicator...

Jedediah Chant sat on a chair with a laptop and a pretty hefty book to his side on a stool. He had earbuds on and was bobbing his head to a beat nobody else could here. Dressed down, ratty torn jeans, worn leather boots, a black hoodie. A pink beanie. Hair long enough to be tied in a ponytail. _Pink? And what about that 15 minute policy?_ Bo chuckled at Jedediah's managing to talk his way into violating all the hospital rules. Of course he did. Mannings do what they want.

Todd looked to be bad off, Bo noted. Reminded him of that one incident in Statesville. He lay completely unconscious, hooked up to a ventilator, chest wrapped up tight. He wasn't covered too much, though, legs sprawled down the bed, midsection covered loosely with a sheet. His heavily inked and scarred arms lay at his side, one hand gripping a part of a sheet. Must have come awake at some point to be holding onto the linen so tightly.

_Why did you shoot him, Tea?_

Why, indeed. A lady in scrubs came up to Bo who stood at the station just observing the situation. "Can I help you, Commissioner?"

"Yeah, how's he doing?"

She smiled pitifully, "Hanging in there. Came through surgery okay, but didn't do well when we tried to wean him off the ventilator yesterday. Vitals were unstable, touch and go. He's better today. Stabilized overnight. Looks like he's showing signs of breathing on his own, too."

Bo looked across the floor at Jed, actually surprised at his being here. Viki had mentioned just the other day that he'd been somewhat estranged from Todd. It was good he was here. A quick tally said Jed was probably the only one who even COULD be here. Viki was wrapped up with Tea and the kids; Blair and Starr were out of town. Flying in, supposedly.

"When do you think he'll come around?"

"Any time now. We've been slowly reducing his sedation all morning. Need to get him off that vent."

"Good. Look, we need to talk to him about what happened. You'll call us?"

"Yes, yes, absolutely, but I'm not recommending any interviews for the time being, awake or not."

Something in her tone struck Bo and he dropped his eyes to her tag: Grace Jalloh, M.D. Nice. Bo chastised himself and thanks his stars he hadn't called her nurse. This fine African-American was probably the lead ICU doctor. He added, "Got it, Doc," smiling, embarrassed at his neanderthal assumption. Nora would rip him a new one. "His son…isn't there a 15 minute limit?"

The doctor nodded, "He insisted on staying. Sometimes we accommodate that, plus the room is big enough." She turned to look at him. "He stays out of the way when he has to, so we're good with it."

He then asked, "Is he going to recover? I mean… is he..."

Growing thoughtful, Dr. Jalloh said, "Well, the biggest problem he's facing right now is infection. Barring that, he should be out within a week." She paused. "But...he's developed a fever so we're all on pins and needles." She got a serious look, "Things can change fast. Don't get complacent."

"Of course, yeah. Well, thank you..._doctor._ I'm going in, okay?"

"Yes, yes… please. Just keep it low and short."

Bo was glad Jed was here - might have some insight into the current Delgado-Manning dynamic. Lots of pressure on the Mannings in these last months. He knew they weren't exactly in harmony, kind of separated. But..._shooting_ kind of separated? Hard to believe. Impossible to imagine. But her being the shooter was the only possible scenario.

Evidence showed no third-party intruders, Tea's freshly-fired gun lay on the scene. The recovered bullets matched the ones from the gun. She tested positive for gun residue on her hands but she'd used the gun at RJ's place so that didn't mean anything. There was no sign of forced entry, the only thing amiss being a smashed drinking glass that contained milk of all things. And yes, cookies on the counter. Milk and cookies. She did test positive for alcohol but nothing excessive. Her demeanor sealed it: horrified, tearful, not afraid of intruders whatsoever. She was the shooter.

But _why_ was a mystery to all but Tea and Todd.

He cleared his throat, without getting Jed to notice. The music. Bo tapped his shoulder and Jedediah glanced up, nodded a hello, returned to his laptop. No interest in talking without prodding.

Bo tapped him again. "I want to talk to you."

Jed rolled his eyes, pursed his lips in impatience. Yanked the buds out, shutting the music off on his iPhone. Waited for the question.

"What are you workin' on?"

"Class project."

"You're back in school?"

"Yup, MBA." He shrugged. "No big."

Bo grabbed a stool from outside the room, rolled it next to Jed and sat heavily. Jed sighed and closed his laptop. Impatient but aware Bo wasn't letting him off any hook.

"Tell me about 'em, your dad and Tea. You surprised she shot him? Or was this something that seemed to be coming?"

Jed studied Todd, looked at the monitors, light eyes just like his father's. Said, "What kinda conversation you want? One sided or a real one - where you don't pull punches and you give as much as you want from me?" Turned to Bo who crossed his arms, taken aback at the hard look on Jed's face. He wasn't a kid anymore. He wasn't scared, he wasn't intimidated, he wasn't a weeping child sitting vigil. He was stone cold Manning without the wounded soul, without being a major player in a crime organization.

As far as Bo knew. Never occurred to him until right now. Was Jed MK, too? Which meant, again, this was no kid. Okay, straight talk. "I just want an open conversation. I'll give, too. How much do you know about your father? His life."

"A _lot."_

Seconds rolled by as they played chicken, assessing how much to give in this give-and-take. Jed wasn't going to incriminate Manning so it was up to Bo to give up first. "You know about his association with the Mambo Kings?"

"Yes."

"Like how high up he is in the organization."

"Yes."

"You know what he does for them?"

"Do you?"

"Can you enlighten me?"

Jed shook his head, "Nah. That's for you to find out."

Bo chuckled, "Not much of a conversation."

Shrug.

Bo sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, deciding to just talk. "I know that he's second in command. Our intel, not totally reliable but not too shabby, says he's the information man for MK. His responsibility is to get information to Pedro Moreno on competitors. Manning also makes deals with other gangs; he essentially…" Bo snorted, disbelief coloring the sound, "Manning is rumored to be the man behind the curtain, the white ball on a billiard only with surgical-level control… he knows where all the balls are at, and not just MK either. All gang organizations in our region, maybe even on a wider scale." Bo paused, looking at Todd on that bed. Looking at the MK markings that he now couldn't unsee.

"Rumor says, he doesn't just know where the balls are at, Jed, he PUTS 'em there. I have a feeling, and this is just a feeling 'cause I have no evidence, that without Manning running the show behind the scenes…the balance of power in the Northeastern U. S. of A. would go nuclear."

Jed didn't say much. His eyes dropping down, looking at nothing. He shrugged, his face impassive, said quietly, "He should be arrested."

"Can't be. He's got his real role so buried, so disguised, that he's virtually immune to prosecution. I had no idea when I started pursuing the Horenda killing, how hard it would be. We nearly got him," Bo smiled, almost bitterly, more to himself than Jed, "but damn if he didn't come up with a way out of it."

Jed didn't seem to know this. He turned, "Really?"

"Yes, I'll leave it at that. Your dad… is now in a formal state of immunity. Lucky man."

Silence. Bo gave a punctuating nod. Looked hard at Jed. "Why did Tea shoot him? Was he hurting her? Threatening her?"

Jed dug around his backpack for some gum. Stuck a stick in his mouth. Offered one from the pack, Bo shooing it away. He put the pack on the table next to him, stretching out his long legs in front of him. Chewed for some long moments, his eyes on Todd.

He looked at Bo, "My dad…he's complicated, but he loves Tea pretty simply…and she loves him." He sighed, conflicted. "Look, I don't want to get her trouble. I mean, don't use my words, okay? Like, I'm not testifying against anyone." Bo agreed. He really did just want an open convo.

Jed went on, "She's been really hurt about MK, for sure. Obviously. But…not just that. He's… he's got this heroin thing and that's been a big problem, too. He can't shake either MK or the dope. She wants him to leave most of the time, but..." Jed sighed. "He's caught up in too many things. He's like that giant...with all the little people…"

"Gulliver?"

Jed laughed a little, "Yeah. So many ties, keeping him down. Thing is, he's so entrenched that he doesn't even see how much he really just likes it." His voice tightened. He sounded pissed off.

"Likes MK."

"Yeah…" Jed rolled his eyes, "My dad is the… strongest man I know. He's a real Superman. He calls his doctor that but what he doesn't know is that HE is the superman. He saved me, respected me. Made me believe in myself. Long time ago. Nothing gets him. He survives everything." He shook his head. Looking at his dad on that bed. As vulnerable as any man at death's door. Jed rubbed his face tiredly, sniffed. "But deep inside, he thinks he's nothing. Powerless. I know what that's like. How deep THAT can run. MK gives him power. And he… likes it. Least, that's what I think."

Bo studied Manning, not doubting a word Jed said. Sounded pretty accurate. "So was he upset that Tea wants him out, out of MK, out of the house...off the drugs?"

"That's the thing, despite all that, he didn't really take anything out on her. Oh sure, he's an asshole, don't get me wrong. He gets real snarly with her, but threaten her? No, I'm sure of it. No."

"What about Tea, do you think she finally had it? He's refusal to give these things up?"

Jed turned on Bo. "No, Tea doesn't hate him. I see it, I hear it… she fights herself all the time. No way would she just shoot him. I think she has PTSD, you know, post-traumatic shock? Not just from the club thing. From EVERYTHING. What I think happened? She got scared is what I think. Shot him in shock. I read that she was alone at first. That he went to the house later? Her nerves got the best of her."

"Like an accident."

He nodded, "Yeah, like an accident, something like that."

"How do you feel about her? You angry?"

He thought about it, looked at the monitors, looked at his dad. Got a sad look. "Like I said, he's complicated. Who hasn't wanted him dead? I certainly have, more times than I can say. Not that she shot him on purpose… just saying… even if she did? I get it. Deeply get it. He's put her through a lot and it's not letting up." Jed breathed in and sighed heavily, leaning forward and put his head in his hands. The weight of the world on his shoulders. Knowing far too much. "Shit," he said under his breath.

Bo patted him on the shoulder, "He'll get through this, kid. He's a tough tough man." Nodded, chuckled, "_Superman._ Kind of."

Todd started to move on the bed, pulling gently against the ventilator tubes, weakly fighting everything. Grabbing those sheets into fists. Jed jumped up. Expertly put the side railing down and got right to his father's side, getting a firm hand on Todd's arm. "Hey Pops…it's me Jed, I'm right here. Can you look at me? Can you stay cool? Can you chill the _fuck_ OUT?"

Nice. Bo blinked at classic Manning sympathy but funny enough it worked. Todd seemed to settle and focus on Jed, visibly trembling. He reached for Jed, his hand landing heavily and sure on his son's head, cords, lines straining. He was… absolutely… awake.

A whole lot of people descended on that room, Todd seriously agitated and needing a lot of attention. Bo got shooed out of the room. Didn't know how long it would be, the doctor warning him that no interviews would be granted until he was safely out of the woods. So he headed back to his office at the LPD. Going to take a look at all the evidence again, maybe get Tea to talk. Though he doubted that.

_Why, Tea Delgado, why did you shoot your husband?_

* * *

><p>The television channels were all boring. Tea sat on the couch in the family room, flipping, flipping, finding nothing. Viki had brought the kids home. They had dinner together. The night had long settled in. Kids needed to get to bed. Didn't take long for Reese to come running in, talking his toddler talk and hugging her. She smiled and hugged him tightly to her, closing her eyes. Wishing to turn back time. To that moment when she pulled the trigger.<p>

_Why?_

The tears started to come again and she let go of Reese, "Go, go baby, go back to Lucia…" He ran out and she grabbed the blanket and sobbed into the warmth. She would die, she decided. If Todd died because of her, because she lost her mind and completely snapped, she would simply die. The moment played over and over in her head and nothing brought any clarity to her. She could feel that gun in her hand, she could see Todd putting his hands out to stop those bullets.

_No, no, Delgado…_

The tears soon stopped and she just listened to the sounds of the kids running upstairs. Bathtime. Fact is, she had snapped. The moment was very fogged. She was so upset, so horrified at watching Todd in that gang fight… but it was strange. Her memory was foggy. Did she see what she thought? Did he get such… a lift from that fight? She was not herself after the thing ended. Nearly getting killed had shaken her, seeing Sweet Joe get shot, and seeing that Serrano bastard turning towards her had wrecked her.

This she knew. She also knew that she pulled that trigger on her own husband. A momentary snap decision she could not take back. She had wanted to stop him.

Stop what, exactly?

A half hour later, Viki came in, holding a doll that Lucia wanted for bed. Sat next to Tea. Put her hand on her arm. "The children are ready for stories. I'll read to them, get them to sleep. I'll stay in the guest room. I won't go anywhere until you're ready for me to go."

"Thank you so much. You're such an angel." She paused. "How can you look at me, knowing what I did?"

Smiling gently, she held Tea's hand. "Because...I cannot throw stones when I live in a glass house. I don't dare. You are not a bad person, Tea. I know that. So… yes, I can look at you, help you. Take care of your children, yours and Todd's children. I am here." She stood up, bent and kissed the top of Tea's head. "Try to sleep."

Tea leaned back, turning away from Viki. Hearing her go up the stairs. Hearing the kids laugh at something she said when she hit their rooms. She grabbed the blanket against her, curled her feet under legs. The night of the shooting a bloody gray blur. She'd fainted when she saw Todd starting to seize. It was too much, all that blood, the horrible _sounds_ he made. Tea covered her ears, the noise coming back.

When she came to, RJ had been sitting next to her, a cold towel on her head. Todd was gone, Bo standing nearby.

"We're taking you in, Tea. We have to."

RJ was so angry. She remembered grabbing his hand, telling him it was ok. "It's protocol. Not up to Bo." When she refused to answer questions, they put her in a cell. She cried all night. A prostitute ended up comforting her. "It's okay, honey, it's only a city jail. The county is much more comfortable. Prison, you wanna avoid." Surreal. Crying her eyes out on the lap of a broken down Chinese whore. She kept petting Tea's hair, "It's okay, doll, it's okay…"

Sniffing, she glanced around the room, leaning back on the couch. Across the room was a pack of dog stuff. She sat up. Where was Abram? She couldn't believe she forgot about him. Where did he go? Todd had him at the club. The dog had been lying at Todd's feet in RJ's office. Then he left, dog in hand.

Where was he?

Her cell rang and she practically flew off the couch, grabbing the phone off the table. Jed. "Yes?"

"He's awake, Moms. Breathing on his own. Took a while to get him there, but…he's doing great."

The relief was deep. "Thank god," she wept. "Thank you, _amor_..." She spoke a hundred words in Spanish, getting Jed to laugh quietly. Viki came running down the stairs, Tea putting her hand over the phone, like it was an old landline, "He's fine, he's awake, Jed said he's doing great."

Viki put her hands up to her mouth, closed her eyes, and sat down, laying a hand on Tea's lap. "Yeah, Moms, you ought to see him ordering people around right now. The doctors are kind of amazed. And annoyed."

"That's a good thing," she said softly. She didn't dare ask anything, especially relating to her. She wasn't strong enough. "You ok? You must be so tired."

"I'm fine. Feeling a lot better now that's he's gotten through the worst. I really think he's gonna be okay."

Tea rubbed her face, whispered, "I'm so sorry." Those damn tears started up again.

"No. Don't. Whatever happened, happened." Jed breathed hard out, "He's real worried for you."

"Stop… stop… I can't hear this right now." She bit her lip, then switched, had to switch because to think about him worried… no.. She said goodbye and sat in the quiet, Viki having returned upstairs.

_What's he gonna say, Tea?_

He'd absolve her, that's what he was going to do. He'd feel deserving of those bullets. He'd never press charges. The real question was, would he get his own justice on her? He wasn't one to let LPD mete out punishment. Where to now? Why DID she shoot him? Would she absolve herself?

And where… where was Abram?

* * *

><p>Rolon Lopez petted that damn dog, shook his head. The hell was Manning doing with a dog? The dog yawned and stretched out on the passenger seat of the car. Manning had left him. He'd been damn upset over the Serrano slaughter at Gannon's club. Shit hadn't gone down the way he'd expected. He'd really hoped those assholes were just gonna leave. They didn't. Ten men dead. <em>Los Serranos<em> were crippled but not out.

So yeah, right after that shit went down, _Blanco_ shows up at Rolon's garage where there was an emergency meet with Pedro. Manning was real moody and real fuckin' dark, but firm on his ideas. Had that damn dog with him.

_What are we gonna do, man, _Rolon had asked. Voices all start up, everyone had one plan in mind. Kill _Los Serranos._ Wipe out the tribe, man. End them.

Except _Blanco._ Despite that darkness, he was fixed, set on reorganizing. Pedro was angry but willing to listen. _Serranos want the games, _Manning said,_ but we don't want those bastards in this part of the state. Dump the lower region on them. It's been problematic for us anyway. Give it to them. Let them blow it up. We'll come in when shit gets ugly or we'll hand it off to someone else._

Lots of loud raucous objections but Pedro was in for the moment, only slightly more than before, after _Blanco_ showed Pedro hard figures. Showed that the lower region was a loser to start. Low-end gaming. Beneath them. The sheer size of the lower region would feed into _Los Serranos' _ inflated egos. Rolon had the feeling that Manning was on a very short leash on this thing.

So yeah, operation _Matar-todos-Los-Serranos_ was put on hold. Manning got up, walked to the edge of that garage, still fucked-up dark, you know? Pedro nodded at Rolon to get after him. "Find out what you can do…I don't like what I'm seeing."

Rolon sprinted across that greasy floor, calling out to his friend. The two stood in the garage's shadows, right outside that wide-open door. Manning said, _Hey, hang on to the dog for me, okay? I gotta take care of something._

_What you need, bro?_

He got sad, man, that dark moodiness giving way to something else running even deeper. Said his lady was in a bad way. Looked hard at Rolon, _That fight wasn't in Statesville but we sure acted like it was and she saw the whole damn thing. It was our world, you know, it was right and good and clean but… shit… it was ugly for her. Rough._

_Then why are you fuckin' around with this? End Los Serranos. Give Pedro that information he wants. He's been real patient._

Manning looked at the moon, then at his dog. _I am not a monster. WE are not monsters. Right? Let's try to fix this without more people dying._

_No doubt, _Rolon had said. Then _Blanco _looked at the dog and kinda laughed and then didn't. Said shit real low so no one would hear him and the pain in him was big, real fuckin' big, and he said, _I'm either going home or I'm going to get high. You got something for me here?_

Rolon didn't think of himself as anyone's sponsor but… damn...he was torn. That need was huge and Manning really needed to just mellow out but… he increasingly had no control over that fuckin' habit and he only just got out the damn rehab. Rolon grabbed his friend by the shoulders with both hands and said, _Keep it together, my man. Go home to your lady. That shit ain't gonna help you. I'll watch your damn dog._

That monkey on his back showed in his eyes, man, and would always be his downfall. _Blanco_ cussed him out and wandered off, leaving that poor dog hankering after his owner. _What am I, chopped liver, you little fucker?_

Rolon didn't even know the dog's name. He rubbed his big head. Spent the last two days tending to the dog. Food, water, rubs on the belly. When he found out what happened when his brother went home, getting shot up by his beautiful wife… he felt sick. He should have just given him the goddamn dope. Sent him to get laid by one of their girls. He'd still be healthy today.

_Ese puertorriqueña. Bitch had balls bigger than any of them. _

"You a pussy, dog. Look at you. Though...you sure did get a good hold of Baby Joker." Rolon chuckled, looked across the hospital parking lot. He got a phone call from Nene, one of their young MK soldiers who worked as an orderly. Crazy kid had his eyes on medical school. Stranger things, man, stranger things. So yeah, Nene said _Blanco _was awake and wanted to see Rolon. Still in ICU but doing okay. Come late, Nene said. Like midnight. Rolon sniffed. Got out of the car. It was late, near midnight. No idea how the hell he was going to get into ICU. But maybe if he turned the charm on...

Just as Rolon was about to dial Nene, a pretty young nurse, thank God, was just opening the ICU door. He smiled broadly at her, getting her to smile back at him. He'd dressed casual, dressed in a nice collared shirt, made sure to cover his tats as much as he could. He even put on good leather shoes. Head was shaved but you know, a little Axe cologne brought out his suburban side.

"Hey_ mamita,_ can I get in there? I know it's after hours but…my heart, man, I gotta see my friend. I just want to see him awake, you know?" After pouring it on pretty thick, after giving her his number, that silly woman let Rolon in. He walked confident, saw _Blanco_ right away in the big room. Rolon laughed to himself. Of course he got the big corner room. A king, a man sent by God, would always get the big room.

His son was at his side, legs out, snoring away. Manning was awake though, saw Rolon immediately. He lifted his head a little, looked serious, had fevered eyes. He was all laid up, wrapped up, wires and tubes and shit. Rolon got to him, put a hand on that hot head of his, "What the hell, _hermano?_ What did you do to that woman?_"_

Todd lowered the oxygen mask, looked his friend up and down. "You here to finish what she didn't?"

"You're gonna throw that at me the rest of my life, ain't you? I said I was sorry." Rolon sighed, a hand on Todd's arm. "Jesus, I should have just given you that dope. Going home, nearly the fuckin' death of you."

Todd swallowed, closed his eyes, shook his head, said softly, "Stupid. My fault, my fault. I did it all wrong. This isn't on her."

"What happened?"

"Doesn't matter." Todd then put that mask on again because breathing was still an issue. He breathed long enough to settle himself, the stress rising, anger bubbling, feeling like hot blood in his lungs. Rolon could see it. Dark and moody? This was a whole other thing.

He took the mask off, said raggedly, "Can you do something for me?"

Rolon nodded, "Yeah, _hermano, _anything, what?"

Todd licked his lips, pulled Rolon closer, continued to speak low, "Kill 'em, kill those _Serrano_ motherfuckers. The generals, they all meet for breakfast tomorrow… on the east side… place called _La Paloma Motel. _Kill 'em all."

Rolon stood straight up. Serious now. "What about your plan? Lower region gaming… negotiating..."

"FUCK. THEM. They hurt my wife… THIS much. I thought she would be okay...but THIS is what happened. They hurt her...they hurt the Posse…messed shit up and I don't like messed up shit." He could barely keep himself still. "Kill 'em, Rolon._ End_ them."

Rolon turned to look at Jed who wasn't snoring anymore. Those eyes said a lot. He'd heard that last order and was completely unmoved. If it had been anyone else, Rolon would have made a joke, blamed the meds, the injury. Rolon just breathed hard. Jed got up, said in a quiet but confident voice, "Room 214. They'll be there at 6 in the morning. Been doing that once a week for about six months."

Well, shit… apples sure don't fall far from trees.

"All the ones who count will be in that fucking room," Todd huffed. "_Los Serranos_ will be _done_."

The mask went back up. Jed sat back down. Rolon could feel the gaze of both men on him, could feel their unwavering in this decision. Rolon studied Jed, seeing his father in him. Knowing he was a good kid, and would be there for Rose the rest of his life. He could still hear Leticia's begging Rolon to claim her daughter…Jedediah too young for such a responsibility... MK needed to protect that child...

Damn, Rolon had no idea. That kid had ice water in his veins just like his dad.

"_Pues, Blanco… _you were real hard against this. For a long time. You're burning up, you're on lots of drugs… you're sure you ain't gonna wake up tomorrow morning in significant regret? You can't take this back."

"I've thought about it every minute since I woke up. Up and down and sideways. I want this. I _need _this."

Rolon nodded, looking hard at _El Diablo Blanco._ Sniffed, his belly tight with adrenaline. "This don't make you a monster," he said. "This makes you…" He searched for words. Grinned. "This makes you a true MK blood brother,_ un Cubano por sangre_. Revenge is honorable."

Todd looked hard at Rolon, eyes...unwavering.

"Consider it done, _Blanco._ Consider it DONE."

**To be continued...**


	37. Chapter 37

**Caged**

Chapter 37

Bo Buchanan looked at the death shots of the leaders of _Los Serranos_; each got one or two bullets in the head. He eyeballed the list of evidence pulled from the motel room: cell phones, laptops, ledgers, a few file folders, and weapons. A real treasure trove. The gang was done, their bloody network finished. Those six men must have been shocked to hell when assassins slammed into that motel room, no time to run, no time to hide anything. No time to fight. So fast that several of the men still clung to paperwork, cell phones. One had a laptop open...

Ballistics would identify how many guns did the job. Ballistics would lead to the kind of guns used. Forensics might show who did it. Bo growled and sat back, snorting angrily. WHO? WHO...would never be found. There was only one witness and she said they were dark haired men with bandanas. She did not see the van or car or other vehicles. One winked at her before hopping the railing and taking off in the early dark. The eyes, _beautiful_ brown, she said. Long eyelashes. _Black man? Latino? _No idea, she said, but he was beautiful. Jesus CHRIST, a real Robin Hood she seemed to think. _Los Serranos… were killing our children. These men saved us._

The motel was lowly: no videos. LPD was digging deep for anything but Bo knew it would be pointless.

Now it was a matter of seeing which organization would take over _Los Serranos' _network. Would they be as territorial, as hungry, as bloody as _Los Serranos_? Only time would tell. The phone on his desk rang, taking him out of his study… Tea Delgado. She was returning his call - he had information for her: the DA's decision based on the interviews and evidence. He picked up the phone, eyes on his men working this newest murder case.

"_Mr. Manning, can you tell us what happened the night you were shot?"_

_A whole 24 hours had passed since he'd woken up, nearly 72 hours since the shooting. Pale and bearing a fine sheen from that low grade temp he was running, he still suffered the indignity of various tubes in and out of his body and sensors monitoring his every bodily function. Not in ICU, but obviously still serious. And yet, there was a dog at his side. Funny thing, that Abram, a bored yet devoted pitbull terrier. Everyone knows how dangerous those dogs are, right? Yet there he was, tucked tight against his owner, getting gently petted by Manning. Nobody questioned why or how a dog could be there in the hospital. He didn't seem to be special, not a service dog or anything that Bo could see. Just didn't seem sanitary._

_Set against the sweetness of the dog was the hard look on Manning's face. The twitch along his jawline told Bo this interview wasn't something he wanted. An oxygen mask lay to the side of him. _

_In the room stood two other officers, each recording the events of the day. Manning's lawyer was there, too, and a doctor. Everyone was on the edge of their seat. The tension was palpable. Would he implicate his wife? Would he point the finger at her and play the victim? Would he want her arrested? Bo had a bet with Nora. She said Manning was a scumbag and would want Tea in jail. Bo doubted it...twenty bucks doubted it. And a burger and beer night._

"_Just start at the beginning."_

_Clearing his throat, Manning spoke haltingly, his voice scratchy. He set clear eyes on Bo. "The beginning...I walked in the house. I surprised her. She wasn't… expecting me. She turned, and shot me."_

_George Strauss smirked, a soft snort. Bo shook his head, never knowing what was in that lawyer's head. _

"_Where were you when you _surprised_ her?"_

_Manning grew slightly breathless, those monitors showing heightening numbers. "At the entrance ...of the kitchen. It was dark. I… uh… might have said something, I can't remember." He looked down, pausing. "I moved too fast. She was afraid..."_

"_What time was it that you... _surprised_ her?"_

"_Maybe 3? Can't remember."_

"_Why didn't she expect you to come home? Why would it have been a surprise for you to be in your own home?"_

"_She told me... to stay away. I didn't. She… did nothing wrong."_

_Bo crossed his arms. Studying the man on that bed. Looking at that ink on his skin. The hospital gown didn't cover much of it. The snake coiled along his neck, a whole other series running up and down his arms...That jawline kept twitching 'neath the stubble. He was grinding his teeth. Suddenly Bo wondered if Manning was letting Tea go so he could deal with her later. The man had often made wives pay dearly for betrayals._

"_You angry at her, Manning?"_

"_No," he said softly. _

"_So you think she was jumpy," Bo said, "from Gannon's club incident?"_

_Manning nodded, closing his eyes briefly, his breathing strained. The doctor suggested he get the oxygen but Manning got agitated, waving the doctor away. Those cold hazel eyes gazed at Bo once more. Those numbers on the screens showed the stress. _

_Bo then asked, "There was a broken glass in the kitchen. Did you throw that? Were you angry when you surprised her?"_

"_No! I told you, there was… no time. I walked in, she turned and shot me. She was scared. I could see it…"_

_Manning's heart rate shot up, blood pressure, too. The doctor put a hand on Manning's shoulder, "Try to relax." He worked at regaining his calm, lying back, a hand on that dog that had turned his head to his owner. Watching him. Bo began to think this was actually a service dog. Made a mental note to inquire._

_When he was more settled, Bo continued._

"_You could see how scared she was… so time passed…"_

"_Seconds, Commissioner," George interjected. _

"_What was she scared of? You?"_

"_Maybe...maybe me."_

_George interrupted, "He's not saying he did anything aggressive towards her."_

"_Why would she be scared of you?"_

_Manning glanced away, took time to answer. Petted the dog. Said in that same soft voice, "I don't know."_

"_I think you know."_

_A little fire in his eyes now, "Look at me, Buchanan… when has anyone not been scared of me?"_

_Bo nodded, looked at notes, "Where were you before you got to your house, after Gannon's club?"_

_George spoke up, "Nope. Irrelevant."_

"_I want to know what Manning's attitude was when he walked into that house. Was he soft and quiet, was he storming in…might depend on where he was."_

"_Then ask that. His whereabouts prior isn't anything to this matter."_

"_Fine, tell me how you entered the house, quiet or storming in?"_

_He shook his head, shrugged, "I don't know. I just wanted to see her. I shoulda called first, I shoulda… been better…" _

"_Manning, is it your desire to press charges against your wife, Tea Delgado?"_

_He said raggedly, "No charges. NO. Let her go, Buchanan...she didn't do anything wrong. I won't testify." His breathing got short, stress taking over. Those monitors lighting up. "You hear me, right? You'll let her go?"_

_The doctor shook his head, a hand pressed on Manning again._

"_Yes, I hear you," Bo said. The other officers looked at each other. Bo then added, "But the DA has the final say. He's going to talk to Tea - she didn't want to talk to us until..." He paused. "She needed to know that you'd survive, or not."_

_That breathing was tough. He turned away, working to calm himself. The doctor had enough. "Interview is DONE. You have your answers, gentlemen. He's too weak. Get out. All of you."_

_George asked Bo, "You done?"_

_Bo eyed the patient, "You said nothing to her when you walked in?"_

"_I don't remember. Even if I did… she was surprised. She was scared. She was...defending herself against me… whoever I was to her."_

"_And you did nothing overtly to scare her?"_

"_No."_

And there you go. Manning refused to blame Tea. The DA's conversation with Tea had been equally as fast and equally as refusing to cast blame. She told the exact same story that Manning had described. _Mostly_. She'd been shocked, traumatized. The sight of Manning in the kitchen frightened her and she reacted out of instinct. She had no answers as to why she did not see _her husband. _

_I saw him, but I was afraid and felt I had to stop him. It makes no sense now. I must have thought he was the shooter from the club. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I should plead insanity._

Bo told her now that the DA was moving on, declining to prosecute anyone. Bo asked if she was afraid that Manning had his own plans for her, "He's never taken 'betrayal' well and he might see this as a betrayal of loyalty-"

"What do you think, Bo? You saw him, you heard him… did he seem like he had other plans for me?"

Bo looked at the DA's recommendation on Manning's shooting on his desk.

_No further action._

Sighing, he had thought about the interview and really couldn't judge. Todd Manning was a mystery. "I can't say, Tea. I cannot say that under all the bandaging, that hate _wasn't_ lurking and that he _did not _have plans on turning on you in his own time. Fact is, he seemed… " He looked for a word. "He was desperate for me to let you go."

"Of course he was. My husband… has a strange love for me. Bo, I'm not afraid that he's coming after me. I'm okay."

She hung up. Bo didn't trust Manning and picked up the phone. Ordered covert protection of the house. "Just put plainclothes on her house - have him keep an eye on her as she lives her life." Tea Delgado had gunned down her husband and was fully cleared. A near-tragic accident. Just… surprised by a scary figure in her kitchen. Closed case. But a recipe for revenge.

Except he couldn't let go of Manning's one voluntary bit of information: he might have said something before Tea shot him. That means, she'd have known very well who was in her kitchen. Which means… she was very upset with him, or very afraid of HIM. Specifically.

Maybe it was the Gannon incident, but everyone said the killers were unknown local gang members. Not a single witness to the violent fight. Not a single gang member remained on the scene by the time LPD showed up… Manning had been there, but not where Tea was. He was away from her during the shooting on Joe and her in Gannon's office, so where was Manning at that time? It didn't make sense. Maybe Manning was far more involved in that attack that anyone was saying. And maybe… that's why Tea shot him.

Maybe she finally realized Todd Manning was someone to be very afraid of.

He rang up the lead detective on Gannon's club attack. "Hey, you have tapes from that? I'm pretty sure Gannon watches the club. Must be video from that night?"

"Nope. Coinkydink...tapes mysteriously misplaced."

"Where was Manning during that whole thing? Why wasn't he with his wife in that office?"

"Apparently he'd stepped out to see what was happening. The fighting prevented him from getting back in time."

"You believe that?"

"No evidence to the contrary. Everyone there says he was near the office, just avoiding the fray."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone canvassed so far. We got some remaining folks to interview."

Bo shook his head… coincidence, indeed. "Keep me in the loop...I suspect Manning had a lot to do with that fight."

* * *

><p>Recovering from gunshot wounds to the chest, in his case, was brutal - Delgado really did him up good. Walking was hard, moving was hard, breathing <em>deeply<em>… was the fucking worst. Everything hurt. He felt stressed and depressed, the whole thing just pissing him off. People did not like him as a patient.

Following a walk around the hospital floor, he climbed into the bed and covered his eyes with his hands. Sunlight landed on him and he just lay there while nurses fussed around him, arguing over something. He felt his body being moved this way and that, things pinching and pricking, and he finally shoved them all away, "Don't FUCKING touch me! Get the fuck out!" He whipped his arm at them, laying back and wishing he could just fucking die right now. The nurses jumped back, said there was just one more thing…we'll do it quick.

Hard part was no regular painkillers. His addiction made the best drugs _non grata. _

Days and days had passed him by. Rolon had pulled that hit together perfectly, and perfectly fast: the Tribal Street Boys did it. Clean, frighteningly so. Todd hadn't cared too much how it got done - if MK could take care of it internally, he was fine with it. But then Rolon made a suggestion… get the Tribes involved. They'll take over lower-end distribution and the loser gaming territories. They'll turn those losers around. Keeps MK's hands clean. Moves MK more legit the way Pedro wants. Gets rid of _Los Serranos. _They need motivation, though.

Let 'em know their man, Running Rain Douglas, got caught in _Serrano _gunfire. They've been hot to know who took him out.

Perfect.

He rolled to his side, dull fiery pain running through his chest, drawing his entire focus. He gasped at the pain and felt that familiar high he tended to get with intense pain. In that haze, he saw his children's faces. God, he missed them. Didn't want them here though. Didn't want to scare them. Didn't want to have to explain to them that their mother nearly killed their father…that he deserved those bullets. And more. Abram was with the trainer today and he missed him, too. That damn dog...

Mewling like a cat...he pressed his face into the pillow and grabbed the sheets up around him, pulling his knees up. A different pain moved through him, his heart seeming to clench inside of him, twisting his insides. She broke his heart, really.

Logically, he understood what had happened. His wife had hit a wall of tolerance, an ocean of reality. To see their life up close and personal, to see what it meant to be in MK for life...to see him...in charge and living that life, to see how easy she could die in crossfire, or their children, or people she loved… maybe even the addiction. She was already upset with him over that… mad that he wanted those smokes, still, just after getting out of fucking rehab… she didn't even know that he'd been ready to hit that shit again...asking Rolon for it...

Yes, yes, he understood _deeply_ why she had wanted him dead in that moment in the kitchen in the dark. Yes, yes, he understood. _Bring it on, girl. Kill me. Kill me eighty times over._

And yet… he was broken by her hate of him. He refused all visitors because of it. He even chased Jed away. He just couldn't… talk… or think… or look into anyone's eyes. He couldn't take the pity, the confusion, the suspicion, the sorrow, the shock… couldn't take any of it.

Above all, he couldn't take love. He did not deserve love. He assumed that's why the wedding ring had disappeared - physics, fate, whatever you say… took his ring. He did not ask for it, he simply allowed himself to be absent of any symbolic…love.

No, he couldn't take love.

The one thing he could do though, was run MK like a fuckin' diva bitch. That… he could do lying down. Rolon would call him on the burner phone, give him updates, the two making mad decisions. Moving pawns where they needed to be. The two had the criminal underworld under their thumbs. People were right where they had to be, doing what needed doing. _Blanco_ healed fast. _Blanco _was thriving. Rich, powerful, cold-blooded..._El Diablo Blanco _was perfect_. Pedro Moreno_ was a very happy man.

Todd on the other hand...

He looked at the windows, watched the sun move its inches down until it was dark. He sat up when he saw the respiratory therapist and tears immediately sprung… she'd make him take those deep breaths and he just didn't have it in him this evening. It was going to hurt and he didn't want that pain right now.

He shook his head, no, no, no, and she, Marcy, smiled sorrowfully and gave her speech about pneumonia and all that. Then she let him know… "You're going home next week if you're able to pass these breathing tests, Mr. Manning. What's stopping you is that you're afraid. I can see it. Afraid to breathe. Just relax, and breathe..."

He was. He was afraid to breathe. He looked into her kind eyes, feeling those tears roll down his face.

"Where will I go?"

"Home."

"I don't know where that is."

_Breathing…was so fucking hard._

* * *

><p>Tea Delgado had finally gotten back to work. Kids were home, life seemingly returning to normal. <em>Seemingly <em>being the key word. The shooting of her husband had faded as news and was now relegated to mere whispers behind her back that she hoped would go away eventually. The DA had let her go. Todd refused to press charges and that had not surprised her. She, likewise, refused to press any charges either.

Closed case.

There was bigger news now. The end of _Los Serranos. _Tea clicked words on an emergency motion. Trying to get a judge kicked off a case for bias. Click, click, click.

Thing was, she needed to see Todd now. She needed to know what seeing him would do to her. How would it make her feel. Afraid? Sad? Angry? What would she think? Likewise, what would seeing her do to him? What did he WANT? Now? What did he expect? It was time to stop living in the imaginary and move into their new reality whatever that might be. Whatever the steps. One thing she now fully grasped: her husband was the real king of the Mambo Kings. Cold, violent, merciless. He would do whatever it took to keep MK on top, to create a sustainable, wealthy, powerful gang.

_A cool eye, watching men die…shoving a soldier back in the game..._

Yes, back to work. Click, click, click. Her other client, Abel Acosta, was fully in witness protection with a great lawyer from New York City. The kid was brave, braver than most, testifying against one of the most violent gangs in the state, _Los Serranos_. When news hit that _Los Serranos_ had effectively been terminated, Abel called her_. _There were more people to take care of. While thed deaths had been good, the remaining would be taken care of by LPD's gang unit. Yeah, _Los Serranos_ was done. Abel would begin a new life, a better one. She wondered if that MK soldier she met at the Havana would come in. She wondered if he could turn state's evidence.

She did have an ace in the hole, a kind of insurance. She had young Raul Diaz. A young MK soldier, working his way through the criminal system. He'd gotten picked up on drug charges, possession, distribution, weapons possession. Thing was, he had gotten a hold of paperwork. A ledger, actually, fairly damning of Pedro Moreno. Except… it also led to Todd Manning.

She looked up a code section on Westlaw. Typed it into the motion. Click, click, click. She had no doubt that MK had finished off _Los Serranos._ It left her feeling cold. She swallowed. He was… a monster.

A massive wave of guilt flooded through her, guilt about so many things… her therapist said that Tea had made a judgment call in that very instant… she'd been traumatized and Todd had confronted her in the dark, at a very wrong moment. What do they say? _In the wrong place at the wrong time._ She'd spent hours and hours with that therapist and was now working on just being herself. Being peaceful. Being a good mother and a good lawyer.

_You did what you had to do._

_What was I trying to do?_

_You tell me._

_I was trying to stop him._

_From doing what?  
><em>

_I don't know. All I remember is thinking...stop. _

Trying to stop him. Stopping _El Diablo Blanco, _is what she wanted. Stopping the killing, the drugs, the MK life. Maybe if _Blanco _was dead, Todd would emerge in his place. Smiling, loving, whole. Ready to take on his life that he wanted so much before Statesville.

Prison was supposed to be his redemption!

Click, click, click. Prison had created a monster. _Blanco_ was a monster...

So yes, working on peacefulness. Inner peacefulness. Don't judge, just BE. She tried to sleep that way. Listening to music in her bed, practicing sleep-inducing yoga...but she'd hit those pillows and there he'd be. _Blanco_ pacing the corridors of her dreams like a black broken panther. Dark, dangerous, with that unintended swagger. He appeared to her in the shadows, in the light, bloody knife in hand, eyes of the devil. _Blanco._ She'd wake up with a scream caught in her throat. Sweating from terror.

She was afraid of him and everything he brought with him. For the first time, she was truly afraid. She jumped when she heard a truck backfiring. Her heart raced and she breathed...settling herself. She drank a glass of water.

And yet, she worried about him. Not _Blanco_, but _Todd. _Jed saw him cry from the pain he was enduring, that breathing therapy was so hard. All the muscles and ribs would strain and Jed said he'd cry. Those bullets had torn through the core of him…it was a lot to get over. A lot of healing to do. Sometimes she wanted to just crawl into his bed at the hospital. Wrap her arms around him and let him know, everything was ok.

She angrily wiped at the tears on her face. Shook her head...where would that knife be? Imagination was a bear. Fear was killing her.

_He hates breathing, Moms. _

When hasn't he hated breathing? _Todd _has always hated breathing.

But Bo told her he was recovering well. He'd be home next week. Home? He'd looked death in the face and in just over two weeks he was ready to get up and walk again. Face the world again. She looked at his wedding ring on her necklace. Jed had brought it to her when Todd's fate was still hanging in the balance.

_I don't care what happened, Moms. Just hold it, okay?_

She agreed. When he was ready, he would come to her. She'd be ready, too. She'd be… herself. She'd be peaceful. She'd be compassionate. But she'd be firm. Ready to live her own life, on HER terms. She was not going to compromise her values any more. Not one bit. She would not be his queen, she would not be the monster's whore.

Click, click, click. She printed the motion out. Read through those papers. All good. She made copies and marched out of her office. Confident, strong, peaceful...

She knew everything now. She knew exactly… everything.

_Do you regret learning about him? Regret getting him to tell you the truth?_

_Yes. I miss not knowing. I had a family. It was beautiful._

_But it was a lie._

_I was safe in that lie, we all were. We're done, now. I can't pretend, I can't just stand by, now that I know everything. He's lost me._

_Don't judge, don't decide. It's all too fresh. Let the peaceful light of a later day guide you. You'll know when that is. For now, breathe, Tea, just breathe. _

Breathing...is so fucking hard.

* * *

><p>"<em>Mi hijo bastardo."<em>

Todd heard Pedro Moreno's voice and opened his eyes. The room was bright, beautiful, heavenly. He put a hand up to block the light. Bacon, eggs... and the smell of the sea stirred him further awake. He sniffed, rubbed his face, squinted at the summer sun pouring into the room. Massive French doors opened onto a white sand beach. He turned to Pedro. The man's rugged face cracked into a warm smile. He'd brought his son home.

_Havana, Cuba. _

"You in pain, _mijo?"_

In Spanish, Todd groggily said, "_Only when I laugh."_

Pedro laughed, "Breathe in the salty air. You'll be fine. Nothing like my home to heal you."

Todd sighed, not believing Cuba could ever heal him. He was unhealable. The trip had happened fast. He was awakened and told that he was being released early to Pedro's lawyer, Cornelius Bravo, Esquire. He didn't want to leave. _Fuck you, you sonofabitch…_

That lawyer, though, he got close to Todd's face, had a hard hand on Todd's head, and breathed, smelling of rum and cigarettes, "Where you gonna go, Manning? You got no home no more. Your wife tried to fuckin' kill you. Maybe she'll finish what she started, _ese_?" Todd had objected...and the lawyer laughed, pointed out a sad truth. Talked rough, like low soldier, "What, you think she's gonna open her legs for you? It's been two weeks. _'mano_...has she tried to see you? Asked for you? Has she sent you a fuckin' bouquet o'roses? You have no home. _Tu padre Cubano, _however, he wants you. He is...your only home. MK is your ONLY family, bitch. Do not ever forget that we own you."

_Fuck...you? Fuck me. _He...had no home. That was true. He belonged nowhere except with MK. He was being called to his...only home because he truly was a monster. He belonged with his _padre Cubano_.

A concerned nurse helped move him gently into a limo. Gave him antibiotics, medicated cream for his healing wounds, meds for his seizures. She had kneeled down, tucking a blanket around him. If you start coughing blood or running a fever, she said, get to a hospital immediately. Strangely kind. Strangely sad. He had no idea why she gave a damn what the fuck happened to him.

He was soon swept into a private plane. He slept all the way. Given meds at the beach house, the black coming fast and gratefully. And now...Cuban paradise.

A dog barked. He smiled at Abram hopping onto the bed. Surprised. "Dude...how did you get here?" Abram licked his face, cuddled tightly. As always, Todd felt a definite easing of stress. They shared the bacon. The warm eggs, buttery, salty. "Save some for me, brother."

Pedro sat quietly, then said, "Rolon said he helps you with your condition, the epilepsy?"

Todd rubbed the belly of the dog, stared at the rolling waves. Breathed. Said, "Yeah, he'll protect me best as he can if I'm out...try to get help." Shrugged, "Time will tell."

"Rolon said he attacked Baby Joker...tore at that bastard's throat because you were in danger." Todd said nothing, closing his eyes a moment, a memory he wished he didn't have. A memory _Blanco _loved.

"I'm proud of you," Pedro said.

"Why? For surviving a fuckin' Glock?"

"For taking care of _Los Serranos."_

"Had to do it." Todd glanced at Pedro. "You were right. Should have taken them out a long time ago, when you first asked for that information."

"No,you waited like the snake you are. You've always known...the right time." Pedro chuckled. "But apparently you did not know to anticipate your woman's wrath. She almost did what no one has been able to do...she almost killed you, the man who cannot die."

Ouch. Todd sat up, tenderly moving, but stressed all of a sudden. "You'll leave her alone, or I will fuckin' kill you."

Pedro leaned forward, grabbing Todd's face with both hands, warm, rough hands. Looked hard into cool eyes. "She is safe, my son. Don't be afraid. Nobody will touch her. Domestic conflict is all yours!"

Todd turned, pushing him away. "How long you planning on keeping me here?"

"You're not a prisoner. Stay until you're well. Stay until you can walk through the door of your home, a strong man again. When pain no longer weakens you. Enjoy my home. Get to know Havana. She will warm you, heal you. She will embrace you and fuck you to heart's content!" He laughed heartily.

A woman stood at the door, one he recognized. Gloria, the woman who had _tamed_ him when he first met Moreno. She was dressed in a white sundress, showing her perfect ivory-brown skin.

"Is that _your Havana?" _

Pedro grinned, "Yes, she is. I brought her for you. She'll help you move around, get you back on your feet. She will...ease you back into your regular life. Let my Havana heal you. Then go back and claim your family again. You'll be healthy, strong, the way you were born to be. I have grown to love you...I hope you know that. I want what's best for you. Here, my home, is best."

Pedro stood, nodded to Gloria, turned to Todd. "One thing she does not have, my son, is heroin. Learning to live without it is part of the healing." He nodded in punctuation, and left.

"No heroin?"

Gloria smiled, "No heroin. But I'm here for you, _Blanco. _Whatever you need." She sat on the bed. Moved the sheets off his legs and gently tried to pull a foot onto her lap. He jerked at her touch, her hands flying back.

"Don't touch me," he said, his eyes, though full of need and sadness.

"This won't hurt you, _Blanco. _It will relax you. Move the blood." He thought about it, them relented. Once more, gently, she took his foot, moved her fingers deftly along his bones, his arch, his toes. "See?" She reached into her pocket, poured lotion on her hands. Returned to his foot.

He found himself relaxing, listening to the birds, the ocean. Wondered why he never brought his family to such a pretty place… She moved to his legs. She touched him firmly, moving up his thighs. He grabbed her hand, "Please...nothing else."

She looked him in the eyes, assuring him, "I know your limits. I won't cross those lines. I will never cross your lines, not unless you ask. I am here because you know me and Pedro wanted you comfortable. If you want my body, or you want that kind of touching… you ask. I won't offer. I won't do it without asking."

He let go of her and gave into the gentle touch. He reached for the tray, poked around and then decided on the milky tea. He drank it slowly, feeling warm. In a delicious haze, he resigned himself to his MK home for now. He was fucked seven ways to Sunday, yeah? He ached for Tea's touch. He closed his eyes and imagined it was her. Gloria continued her work, moving to his hands, to his arms and shoulders. Careful not to touch anything he didn't want touched. Soon, the cup of coffee fell off the bed, crashing to the wood floor, his hand loose.

"What...was in that..._en el __té__ con leche...," _he murmured.

"Nothing strong," she said. "Pedro wants you calm. That's all. To heal."

"He said no... opiates..."

"It's only Cuban herbs. It affects you much because you're still recovering."

Gloria knew him well, from the other MK whores. She remembered his fury when he was forced to have sex with her. She knew everything had to be on his terms. She made sure to respect his privacy, keeping him covered but his body was still exposed. She'd never seen his scars on his arms up close and in the light and she was moved. They were deep and well-intentioned. This man had tried very hard to die but someone saved him. Over and over, fate saved him. Then she noticed he had burns on his wrists and she knew that he continually fought the fates that demanded his presence, here...

She saw him give in to the calm, his eyes closing. There really were no drugs in the tea. He simply wasn't well yet. He drifted with the ocean's waves. She hummed and whispered, "Breathe, _Blanco, _breathe."

When he was out, arms and legs spread, completely relaxed, Pedro walked in. "You're very good with him, Gloria. I knew you would be the right person to bring for him."

She did not mince words. She'd been Pedro's lover for many years so could speak freely. "He needs to get home, Pedro. He needs to get to his wife. He needs his family. Did you know he tried to kill himself? The scars are old but deep. Men who try to die, need love. He will lose himself if you deprive him too long." She looked hard at Pedro, "He will not love me. He will love no other woman. Sex will not fill his broken heart, it never has. This I know of him."

Pedro breathed deeply, crossing his arms. "Yes, I know his history. He has weaknesses. But he survives. He is sent by God, Gloria. He might grow to love you, through the sex."

Shook her head. "God or not, he needs his woman. Even if she is angry, he needs to feel the possibility of her. He will not _love_ me no matter the fucking, Pedro."

"Maybe. But he also needs to get schooled in Cuba. He has become my blood son...he will go home stronger, healthier, more deeply committed to _Los Reyes del Mambo. _He must."

Todd heard every word from far away, wondering what all that meant. Wondering what getting schooled in Cuba meant. Wondering when the hell he'd get back home.

_Tea...Tea...forgive me my trespasses..._

Many hours later, dressed and refreshed, thanks to Gloria's respectful help, he walked into the living room. Moved slowly, tenderly. Abram walked at his side. The dog didn't need a leash anymore. Abram refused to leave him except to piss and shit.

Todd wore traditional Cuban clothing, a solid black _Guayabera _roomy enough to accommodate the wrap still holding him together. He wore fancy slacks and loafers without socks. Gloria had prepped him. _Just make an appearance, _she said, _don't grow tired. Eat, drink water, be gentle. _He had appreciated her soft touch, her quiet voice. Before he left her, she kissed his cheek and gave mock instructions to Abram. He felt like a schoolboy. He felt like a child. Tears came easily at her kindness. He could not handle it easily.

"You'll get home, _Blanco_, _te prometo."_

People milled around and ate food from a grand spread. When Pedro saw him, he laughed happily and came to him. He grinned, like a proud father. "My lieutenant, _El Diablo Blanco_, named for his fearlessness. For his strength. Come, come..."

Names flew, places, industries...and one man stood aside. Pedro took the man's arm, brought him to Todd but got called away. Todd met the man's gaze head on. He knew him. The man smiled broadly, shaking Todd's hand. He was tall, his face badly pock-marked. His clothes were fine, tasteful. A thick ring stood out on his left hand.

"My name is Manuel Caro," he said, "...it has been a long time, my friend. I heard we still share...interests. We must catch up, sooner rather than later."

Todd nodded, looked down at Abram. Let go of the sweaty hand. Swallowed the thick choking sick in his throat. Manuel Caro was the child pornographer from Statesville. Manuel...was high up...Manuel Caro...was close to Pedro Moreno.

Closer than Todd had ever anticipated.

Manuel whispered in Todd's ear, "I heard you are still interested in young buds, before they bloom. I have something for you, and you alone. Yes?"

He stepped back, waiting for a response.

Todd heard himself say, "Sooner, perhaps." The man grinned and nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Abram growled and Todd moved to a chair, to pet Abram, to quell his stress. His breathing caught, straining in his chest.

_Shit, shit...And so it begins. Just breathe._

**To be continued...**


	38. Chapter 38

**Caged**

Chapter 38

The old Cuban doctor tapped Todd's chest and listened, tapped again and listened a few more times, each time commenting in Spanish to nobody in particular. He poked the healing bullet wounds from which he'd taken the stitches, front and back. A house call, a favor for Pedro Moreno. He stood up, crossed his arms and studied his patient for a long while. Finally he said,_ "Q__ue haya sanado bien." _ You have healed well. He said, no fluid in the lungs, breathing is good. Todd spoke up at that, "_Pero, tengo dolor todo el tiempo_."

I have pain all the time.

The doctor looked at him for another long while, arms still crossed. In accented English he said, "The pain may never leave you." The doctor's gaze said more than those words.

He turned and issued instructions to Gloria and Pedro which basically consisted of eating healthily, getting regular exercise to his physical limit but not beyond, and no carousing. The doctor shuffled out, chatting it up with Pedro as they headed downstairs.

Todd grunted as he gingerly stood up off the bed, turning to put his shirt back on. Yeah, happy to not have the bandaging anymore but irritated as hell that _the pain may never leave._ What the hell was that supposed to mean? Grumbled more to himself than anyone, as he worked the buttons, "_Exercise_. That's funny. Funny haha. I can hardly walk to the beach and back without feeling like I'm dying."

"This will take time," Gloria said, walking past him, Todd suddenly realizing he wasn't alone. "He said you won't be feeling yourself for six months or so. You're okay when we walk the city. Every day, you walk a little farther."

"We walk slowly," he said quietly. He rubbed the wounds through his shirt, thinking of Tea. Needing her. Missing her… missing everyone. He wanted to be carrying Reese, playing with Lucia… he wanted to see Jed's messy self, Starr's smile. He'd been here only a few weeks but it felt like a lifetime. It felt like his future.

_Delgado, how am I gonna live without you?_

_You will live the way you have always lived, _Blanco: _on your own, fighting for every breath, making anyone in the way… pay. They will feel your presence._

Abram rolled over and demanded a belly rub. Todd glanced down and shook his head, "Really, dog? I don't fuckin' think so." Gloria walked over and got to the floor, petting the dog who was quite happy now.

It had been two weeks or so since Todd had arrived on the island and the sea air was proving healthy, just the way Pedro had anticipated. He walked to the open doors and sat heavily on a chair on the patio, overlooking the beach. People were walking the water's edge, a few venturing in. Birds and a light breeze added to the music of the rolling waves. The sun was hovering...a foreshadowing of afternoon turning into night.

_Havana, Cuba._

The city was a strange place, caught in various time warps. In one way it seemed a jump into a post-apocalypse world, in another it was a ragged utopia, and in still another it was a trip straight to the 1970's in the good old U.S. of A. Only everyone spoke Spanish. Even the house was from another time.

The old beach house had been built in the 1950s when Havana was rocking the elite from Miami, Florida. The spacious rooms had high ceilings and gorgeous molding running the perimeters of the rooms, top and bottom. The doors and windows were large, too, allowing in plenty of air. The paint, though, had long needed attention. The walls themselves were in ruin, plaster needing fixing. The water ran hot and cold, and the plumbing sounded like an old woman complaining about getting out of bed in the middle of winter. The kitchen lacked all the modern appliances. Not a thing newer than 1975.

And yet… it was considered standard. This was a decent place. Pedro Moreno was considered a wealthy Cuban national...even though he'd given up his citizenship. He could visit whenever he wanted due to having brothers and sisters here. When Todd asked how the hell HE could come so easily, Pedro smiled and said, "_porque usted es un periodista." _You are a journalist, he explained, working directly for a newspaper. You have free reign to report on the vast successes and beauty of Cuba. You can come and go as you please.

Of course, all Americans are limited on how much money they can spend in Cuba, part of the embargo put in place in 1960. But that was no big deal. Pedro lived modestly, but because he funneled in so much money, legally and illegally, he had access to almost everything a man truly needed to be comfortable. Not by American standards: by human standards. In fact, much of MK profits were funneled into Cuba, all laundered funds. The people on the island knew Pedro, knew his generosity. They treated him like a king, the Mambo King...he was.

The strangest thing that Todd found in Havana, however, was a quietness in his head, a silence that almost rivaled his heroin highs. _Almost. _This...was the strangest thing. Here, far away from everything he knew, from the moment he set foot on the Cuban island, he seemed to have finally heard... quietness. He figured maybe it was being so disconnected from his life in Llanview. He hadn't talked to anybody, hadn't seen a cell phone or an American newspaper, or American television, or the internet. But he also thought that maybe the silence was a kind of shock. Shock that his beautiful Tea had been so hurt, that she had finally reached her breaking point...to the point where she wanted him dead. Needed him dead.

He rubbed those wounds.

Whatever it was, the quiet was real. He'd wake up in the morning, able to just breathe. He'd go the day in silence, drinking that strong Cuban coffee, eating Cuban food, tasting each bite, feeling each swallow. He'd fight the water in the shower, Gloria laughing at him and getting him to smile a little. She'd replace the bandages and he'd watch her, no thoughts about it, nothing. Sometime he'd touch her hands as she wrapped him. He'd just hold them to his body, not looking at her, hardly breathing. She'd stand still, quiet...until he let her go, letting her finish. The afternoons he'd spend by the water, listening, watching Havana life.

He knew that it was only a matter of time before the noise came back, before he… woke up. He could feel it coming...he could. The sight of Manuel Caro in Moreno's home had stirred him...it wouldn't take much more to wake all the way up.

He reached down and petted Abram's big head, who soon yawned noisily and collapsed onto his side, his tail wagging lazily. The two lay in the sun, both quiet… waiting… waiting...

Gloria came out with a tray bearing _cafe_ and _pan dulce_. Todd hardly glanced at her as he picked at the bread. Sipped the coffee under Gloria's watchful gaze.

In these weeks, they had settled into an old marriage of sorts, intimate in that she'd helped him early on with bathing and changing the bandaging and getting dressed. She'd see him naked and he felt no discomfort. Because she slept in the same room, in an alcove, he'd see her get dressed and feel no discomfort. Yet they were distant in their silence, in their careful avoidance of anything sexual. He had no interest and she was highly watchful of "crossing his lines."

The Cuban quiet seemed to fade at night, however. He did not sleep dreamlessly. He'd always see Tea in some way or another. She'd come to Havana, she'd be in his bed, they'd be strolling the busy narrow streets. Sometimes though, they'd be at home, in their kitchen, the children around them. Other times, she'd be shooting him. She'd be leaving him in blood, him choking to death and she running to RJ Gannon.

He'd wake up in tears, the heartbreak real, the heartbreak soul-deep. He'd rub his chest, rub those wounds. He'd deserved it, he knew. But it hurt anyway. Tore him up literally and figuratively. On those nights, Gloria would go to him, ask if he needed her. He'd just shake his head, raggedly saying, _go away, go away._

Maybe the silence in his head was resignation.

They were done. She was done. He found himself afraid at this likely truth because Tea had always humanized him. Her love kept a part of him _good_. Even in Statesville, just knowing she still held out something for him allowed him to maintain a little humanity. It showed up in his mercy for the Statesville kids, in his ability to write letters and assure his family all was okay despite the hell he lived. He could still be someone important to Jedediah and Lucia. Starr, too.

Who would he be without his Delgado to believe in him, in his humanity? Who would he be without her love? Without even an echo of it?

_Who will you be? You will be the worst, you'll BE the monster, through and through. You will BE _El Diablo Blanco, _fully formed, fully alive. Fully...unmerciful._

Maybe the quiet was the quiet before the storm. And he was afraid of the storm. He could feel it coming like a scent in the air, like a gentle tremble in the ground.

Nights were spent with Pedro, Pedro's brother Alex, and their closest friends, drinking and eating and talking about politics, the future of Cuba, the state of the world. Pedro purposefully didn't engage Todd to do any MK work. He was here to heal. Todd figured that with the Serrano killings things were good on the mainland, self-operating, figured Rolon was holding down the fort. Not tending to MK business was fine with him. Being _Blanco_ could be exhausting at times, too physical, too noisy. Whoever said crime doesn't pay...well… yeah.

But Pedro was becoming impatient at the quiet. He was waiting to see his son come around to himself, to his true self.

The gatherings happened two or three times a week. The men would ask Todd questions, trying to get his American perspective. Those men were passionate - two or three true communists. Believers in the Castro vision. They found Americans fascinating, crazy, Pedro included. _You are fetishists for money! Such power you Americans have but look at your homeless… nobody starves in Cuba, no homeless children!_

Funny how that hit Todd low and deep… no homeless children? No street children? Maybe he believed in the Castro vision, too. No Brandy, ever again. None of those people...none of those children.

_Watch yourself… that's sounds like humanity. Mercy._

_Well, fuck that, then. Gimme street kids any old day so my newspaper can thrive, so MK can survive._

The arguments were fierce. Pedro was a true believer in the overthrow of Castro, in the opportunities of capitalism, democracy. And the Castro supporters... were just as true. Todd stayed out of it, easy to do because the Spanish was fast, complex. He'd always tell them, "Speak slowly, like I'm really stupid." They'd laugh hard and speak slower, using as much English as they knew.

When the arguments got too intense, he usually left. Pedro would always flash a look of disappointment. That quiet...was too quiet. Pedro would follow him, pull him aside and say, "_Blanco, _wake up. So much awaits you." He'd nod and say, soon, but truth was he didn't want the quiet to stop, didn't want the noise back, didn't want to BE the monster. Not yet, not yet, not without Tea to temper the hell.

_She is gone. There is no love for you anymore. You have destroyed every shred of love._

He'd drink the last of his drink and bid them all a goodnight, stumbling to his room to fall once again into those dark noisy dreams.

Gloria asked in a soft voice, not quite wanting to intrude but feeling compelled, "You seem bothered. More brooding today, less peaceful."

He shrugged, "I want a cigarette but that seems really dumb."

She laughed quietly. "Perhaps. Considering you're trying to heal your lungs."

He sniffed, watched the water. After a while, he turned to Gloria, "How'd you start working for MK?"

The question surprised her. He never spoke to her about HER. She watched the water a bit. Turned to find him looking intensely at her, the sun showing the green in his eyes. Serious eyes. He wanted honesty. And when _Blanco_ asks you a question… you generally answer.

"I ran away from home. My father was dead, my mother, a broken woman. I wanted excitement and school bored me." She looked down, "It didn't take long, _Blanco…._ I was on the streets and alone and needed to eat. So I did what any young woman might do…"

"Hustling."

"I got picked up by MK fast. _Soy Cubana pura. Yo tenia talento._" She chuckled, shortly, bitterly, her long brown-black hair, streaked with gold from the sun. She had freckles, she had soft skin… delicate features. Big brown eyes that were full of untold experience.

"I met Pedro Moreno in one of the clubs. Before long, I was his, only his." She paused. "He began to use my talents elsewhere though, later. Because he is kind to me, saved me from the streets by giving me a bed, clothes, food, respect, comfort, everything I want, I go where he needs me to go. He never puts me in places that are truly dangerous. No MK man would ever hurt me." She turned to him, "And that includes those who need taming." They each remembered his time with her. She smiled at him, a sad small one, that didn't last long. "It's one reason that he did not ever let me...deal with you."

He looked perplexed.

"Yes, only a few were allowed to give you dope… to deal with your..._wants_. But he believes you have gentled. So...Pedro hopes that you will use me to…_ feel_ again. To… get ready to go home, and be a husband again."

Closing his eyes, he laid his head back, "I have no wife, Gloria."

"_Blanco…_wife or not, you still have a life in the States. And I am okay with what Pedro wants. You are not cruel to me. I want to help you heal. He obviously thinks you will treat me well."

An unsettling rush rolled through him… would _Blanco_ treat her well? He breathed deeply, pain at the very top of his breath. His lips parted and he let the air out slowly, his hand on his ribs. "Did he start to send you to other men, when you turned 18?"

She shook her head, but wasn't very convincing. "I don't-" She stopped trying to object at seeing his gaze, his mouth turned down with that hate, seeing anger she hadn't seen since they arrived in Cuba. "_Blanco...calmate_…"

"Men like him, reject girls when they are no longer girls. How old were you the first time he raped you?"

She opened her mouth to speak, the shock obvious, the truth even more so. "He never-"

"Did he stop raping you when you turned 18 or did it go beyond that?"

"No, no…what you… he never..."

His gaze at her was no longer kind, no longer empty, he was no longer quiet. "How OLD were you, GLORIA… _Gloria dulce_, _Gloria preciosa, bonita, innocente…_How OLD were you the first time he _raped_ you?_"_

Tears came to her quickly and she swallowed hard. Her features crumpled and she breathed out, "14."

_Wake up, wake up…._

His face twitched, the rage beneath hot and fast, quietness gone in a flash. 14. Same age he was when he was raped. Look at that. "Fuckin' bastard," he said. He had known for a while. He had seen it on Pedro's face and it looked like a mix of guilt and ownership of her. She'd do whatever Pedro wanted. She was a prisoner. She'd never escape MK.

She sniffled and shook her head. Shook to chase her reality away. She waved at Todd's fury, her hand whipping at the space next to her, "Stop...he's good to me. He has made up for all of that…"

Abram was no longer lying down, having sensed a shift of mood in Todd. He was on his feet...working. He moved close to his person. Ready…

"He has _made up_ for it? Do you know what I am, Gloria? Do you know how he's making it up to you _now?"_"

She had closed her eyes, desperate to stop tears from rolling, _"Por favor... _stop... he cares for me..._"_

He grabbed her face, his hard hand squeezing her cheeks. "Do you know… what I AM? Do you know WHY he only allowed the lowest girls to deal with me?"

Tearful, she shook her head against that hard hand, "_Blanco…please..."_

He glared at her, his grip painful on her pretty face. "I am a _rapist_. I like to hurt women...I get off on it… I spent time in prison for it. Don't you think it's funny that Pedro has given YOU, his favorite girl, to ME, a rapist, a man he prohibited you from seeing after our little tryst? Don't you WONDER?" He let her go. "You're an idiot."

Gloria covered her face, silent, breathing to gain control, rubbing her cheeks.

"I will kill him one day," he whispered, his long hair in his face, strands blowing in the breeze.

_Is that humanity I hear?_

_Fuck you, it's pleasure. Killing him will be my pleasure._

"_Blanco, _don't talk like that...I am fine," she choked, her voice ragged and breathless, "That was a long time ago-"

"Don't...DON'T… justify or apologize... DON'T."

They were both quiet. He'd been right in his suspicion. He remembered when he began to realize Gloria was merely a slave to Pedro and probably had been for a very long time: the sight of Manuel Caro in Pedro's HOUSE. In his Cuban HOME. On one of those evenings of close friends, Manuel and Pedro sat talking and stopped cold when Todd walked up to them. Pedro had just said, "She was good, yeah? A beautiful blossom…"

The language was the same as Manuel's language to Todd. Referencing flowers before maturity. Todd had just smiled and offered to get more drinks. The night had continued uneventfully. There was something in that… a glance, a touch… an expectation of Gloria. Pedro had asked, "You do not want her? She's beautiful, she has been since she was a girl."

Those words had added to Todd's suspicion._ A girl._ Realization began to weigh on him.

"No," he had said, "I'm just not ready, Pedro. Soon...then you can send me every fuckin' whore who comes your way."

Pedro had laughed, repeating his belief that Gloria could help. "You need to heal. Let yourself..._heal_."

_Heal _was obviously a euphemism for sex. To Pedro, men proved their healthfulness, their manhood, by bedding a woman. But Todd also knew it was a way to prove his submissiveness. Fucking on command... proving he fucked women at all. This fact made him shake with the edges of hate...quiet slipping, noise pounding to get in. He had nodded to Pedro, said, "Soon enough, _padre, _soon enough."

Gloria got to her feet, "_Vente conmigo_." Her face was flush, streaked with the remnants of tears. She stuck a hand out, "Let's take your dog for a walk. One more time. To the beach and back."

He looked at her, thinking of her life, thinking of how trapped they were. Prisoners. He sighed, Manuel Caro on his mind, too. He had work to do. And this work would include Pedro Moreno. And like in Statesville… he needed to be a monster to get the job done. He stood up, that damn pain of movement pissing him off. The blissful quiet in head beginning to clear.

Yeah, the monster seemed to be stirring. Is that who he'd be without Tea? Without even the echo of love in his life?

_Wake up, wake up…._

* * *

><p>When he stumbled to his room that night, he was drunk again, drunker than usual because he could not let go of the fact that Pedro was probably in on child pornography, in with Caro, knowing now that he had raped Gloria as a girl and now relegated her to a known rapist…these things fucked with his head. What other girls had Pedro Moreno availed himself to? Leticia? Many others had graced the floors of MK clubs. Noisy thoughts, he had, chasing the quiet away...<p>

...he stripped naked and collapsed on his bed, the dark spinning, slamming from side to side. He went into the black willingly, hoping the rum would keep the dreams away. As he swam deeper and deeper, unfamiliar warmth dragged him back to shore. Hands rested on his chest, a body lay against his side. The act pained him, because he knew it wasn't his Delgado and it couldn't be Gloria because she wouldn't cross lines… then a boy's voice purred, "_Blanco…_ your father has paid for the night."

Todd had sat up too quickly, pain firing through him at the stretch of his muscles, "What the…"

The boy laughed, half naked, an erection through his soft pants showing his eagerness. With a Cuban accent, he said, "You can do what you want with me. You are...beautiful...you like me?"

Trying to shake the drunk off, trying desperately to shake it off, he huffed, "I can't…I can't...what the FUCK?"

"Pedro says you like boys...I'm your type, yes?"

Todd held his hand against the kid's chest, fighting a wish to drop-kick this kid. Quietness disappeared fast and Statesville rammed its ugly self into his reality, but the room was still spinning. Think, think, think... he had a job here, Manuel Caro, Pedro Moreno, and he was supposed to be this predator, right? Like back in the day…

Like back in Statesville.

"How old are you," Todd croaked.

"How old do you need me to be?"

Todd cleared his throat and settled on the bed, on his side, breathing himself into calm. The boy wasn't actually a boy. He was older. Thank fucking GOD. "Look, I'm injured, not in the fuckin' mood...so just… keep your fuckin' distance."

The boy lay next to him. Started talking. Telling stories that were lies.

Despite every effort, Todd drifted in the drunk and somewhere in that dreamy half-sleep he knew the whore moved to lie against him again. The boy reminded him of Diego… maybe how Diego might have been before Horenda and the rest of Statesville swallowed him alive. The sleep felt good though, pushing beyond the ugly reality pressing against him.

Soon, however, sleep lightened and he became aware of a person moving on him, hands caressing him, touching his cock, pressing his mouth against Todd's lips, starting to rock his hips rhythmically, creating a beat that made him think he was in RJ's club and Tea was on the couch with RJ and soon he was RJ and Tea was on top of him but when he reached to grab Tea's ass and move her against his achingly hard cock, the truth moved from his cock to his head and that truth yanked him out of drunken sleep, so then… so then…

_Yeah, he woke up. _

And like a mad fucking dog, he didn't care about Manuel Caro or the job or anything, but he did care that someone invaded his space without his fucking say-so and he grabbed that kid by the hair and throat, and slammed him onto his back so solidly the kid got the wind knocked outta him.

Under his breath, Todd growled, "Did I say I wanted you? Did I fucking invite you to fucking USE ME?!"

The kid tried to breathe, strained long breaths, Todd's hand tight. The kid shook his head, choking, gasping for air, Pedro-"

"Pedro? Pedro? If Pedro wants you, he can have you. I do not want you!"

Tears rolled down the kid's face and he whispered, "I thought…"

"You're too stupid to fucking think anything!"

In a flash, Todd knew this kid had to be scared of him, had to be HIS so he could be USED in this new game with Caro and Moreno. He had to BE...that monster. And truth was… it would be easy.

Todd sat up, reached back and hit that kid across the mouth with a hard open hand, blood splattering the sheets. He reached back again to punch the hell out of him for intruding on his sleep, for assaulting him, for RAPING him...but Gloria was suddenly there and holding his arm. He turned and let go at that, sitting up, still straddling that little shit, the pain cutting through him, the pathways of those bullets seeming to be on fire. He grunted and rolled away from the kid, spitting, "Get the fuck OUT!"

The kid scrambled, pulling shorts on, tripping and running out the door. Todd was hunched over in unbearable pain. Gloria flipped a light on and got down on her heels, pushing Todd's hair out of his face, delicately touching him. He cried in sheer agony, "Why do I still hurt so much?! FUCK!"

"Just breathe, _hermano_, breathe...it'll pass...breathe with me..."

He looked at her and breathed along with her, the pain subsiding a little. Sweat was left all over him, hate and anger well awakened.

"It takes longer for the wounds inside to heal. _Relax, Blanco…"_

He looked at her intensely, cutting breaths tearing him up inside, and reached for her, pulling her by the hair to him, wanting to feel her because they were in MK prison together. Both fucked seven ways to Sunday. He held her at arm's length, feeling her hair in his hands. She tried to move but he kept her still, not letting her go, not pulling her any closer to him. He saw something, narrowed his eyes and tightening his jaw…a black shadow crossing his face.

"You knew he was here… you were waiting for me to react…this was some kind of set up..."

Her eyes were big, her face showing complete fear, "I did not know he was-"

"You're a lying _whore_..."

She started to cry, "Pedro said you like them… he said in prison, you needed them to satisfy your wants. He thought maybe… being so hurt… that maybe that was what you needed more than anything. That maybe this was why you were not with me."

Throwing her away, pushing her to the floor, he moaned, "God...god...damn it…" She got right back up, throwing her arms across his belly, her face against his ribs, tearfully pleading with him, "Please, please…Pedro only meant well. He wants you well, healed, he wants you to go back home to your wife. Maybe if you…"

"I HAVE NO WIFE! THERE IS NOTHING FOR ME TO GO HOME TO!" He looked wild, mad-dog eyes, shaking with fury, "Gloria...we are his pawns...we are his slaves… and he wants his slaves healthy and fucking and ready to do his business…there is no _meaning well! _And you just played into his hands like the stupidest...stupid stupid stupid…"

She buried her face into his chest and wept quietly. She was no different than Leticia. Weak, belonging to MK. She needed to know the truth of Pedro. Yeah… she needed to know. It would be easy...

He pulled her up, pulled her close to him. Pulling her by the hair. "Get up," he growled, "Get up!"

She moved with him, letting her body be moved, having no choice. He wrapped his arms around her, getting her on top of him, tightening his arms around her so that she couldn't move. She felt his erection and wept more, apologizing over and over…

"Shut up," he grunted, moving her head by her hair, looking at her face in the light. He pressed his mouth to her cheek, rubbing his open mouth against her skin, tasting her, "Shut up… shut up…" Tasted the salty wet on her face, tears continuing to fall. Then he kissed her, bruising kisses, unforgiving kisses. He didn't care how much it hurt him to move so violently. He rolled her onto her back and got in between her legs, his tongue deep in her mouth. His moved his hand beneath her, pressing his hips into hers. She could hardly breathe beneath him.

_You need to know, Gloria..._

"You want this?" he huffed but it didn't seem a question. He latched onto her throat, biting her skin, making her cry out, "_Blanco! _Please! Stop!"

"Stop? STOP?! He wants me to do this to you. It is why he brought you, _Gloria. _It is why he now lets me at you…because he is finished with you and doesn't care what I do to you anymore."

"No, _Blanco, _no, that's not true…" She cried more and said, "I tamed you…"

He bent his head against her, his whole body shaking and he chuckled darkly, manically..."He knows me… he has been waiting for me to wake up...and now, I am AWAKE." She took a breath and looked him in the eyes, the madness loud, the madness breathtaking.

"I am yours already," she said, "… he gave me to you. I'm here...you don't have to force me...I am willing..."

"Not gonna be that easy, Gloria...I need you to fight me…scream for him...let's see how fast Pedro comes to your rescue because he'd never let MK men _hurt_ you..."

She tried to say no, but then he grabbed her by the throat, his grip tight, cutting off air, and he hissed, "_Fight me."_

She did, she began to struggle against him, hitting him, punching him, doing everything to get away, starting to show real panic, real terror, and he kept goading her, saying, "Come on, do better, like you mean it, like you hate me, _call for him_..."

"Please, please! Pedro..."

"Call for him!"

At the top of her lungs, with terror in her voice, knowing what might be coming, knowing she might die, she yelled for Pedro… called his name…knowing he'd break this up, knowing Pedro would...come...

He laughed, "Where is he, _preciosa? Huh? _Where is your savior?!"

Then he wasn't laughing and he jerked her wrists up in one hand and yanked down her panties with the other and shoved himself into her so viciously she screamed. And he liked that, liked that a lot, so he slammed into her again without gentleness, without care, knowing he hurt her, knowing he was no better than Pedro or the hundreds of men who hurt her this way since she was 14.

He wanted to prove her wrong...he wanted her to know how wrong she was. About Pedro, about him...

The headboard banged against the wall over and over and plaster sprinkled over them. Pain tore through him, pain at the straining of his muscles and tendons and lungs. But it was nothing in comparison to pain he inflicted on her, a delicate flower, easily bruised, easily torn.

He pumped into her until he came to his inevitable end after which she lay still beneath him, sobbing silently, broken, knowing he was right. He proved Pedro didn't give a damn about her because _Blanco _tore her up, noisily, openly, and did nothing to stop it...even Abram had been kept from her.

He breathed fast, grunting with pain as he lay heavily on her. She felt the wetness in between her legs, every breath hurting her, every part of her body in pain...

"_Blanco_," she whispered, "please don't kill Pedro. He is good to me..."

He moved off of her… pushing her away. "You still believe that? WHERE IS HE, GLORIA?"

She started to cry again…"_Blanco…"_

"Go to him then. Run to him." He pulled her by the hair again, hearing her whimper at that, the tears being forced out further. He pulled her to him, breathed hot in her ear, "And when he lets the next MK soldier rape you, someone much much worse than me...remember that I was the only one who showed you the truth. Remember the pain...and remember that HE NEVER STOPPED IT. Get the _fuck_ outta here."

He let go of her, rolled to his side, his own pain sharp and deep...like Tea had shot him all over again. Like he deserved.

_There is no home to go to, there is no Delgado. This is it. Todd is dead and Blanco...is healthy, wealthy and wise._

Gloria got back into the bed, wrapped her arms around him, her voice weak and fragile, a broken bird, "I am not leaving. He has given me to you. I am yours even if you kill me. I cannot leave… you are the head of MK, next to Pedro. I am not allowed to leave."

"Fuck you...just...fuck you." He did not move though, he did not force her away from him. He felt the damage he'd done and it made him sick...but _Blanco _was pleased and sated and high off it. He_ loved_ having shit all over Pedro's gifts. He loved being RIGHT. He HAD to be right.

"Breathe," she cried softly, "Breathe with me and the pain will lessen."

"Gloria...run away."

"I cannot leave, I cannot ever leave because you own me now."

He stared into the dark, following along with her breaths. He was awake…wide awake now. The quietness had gone… as he knew it would.

He was completely without love.

* * *

><p>Downstairs, Pedro Moreno listened to his son awaken from his slumber. The dog, Abram, got very nervous and pulled hard at the leash, whimpering to get to <em>Blanco<em>, to get to Gloria_. _The noise from the room was thrilling, like hearing thunder in the wide open sea, like seeing lightning rip apart the ground. He grinned in a kind of triumph at Gloria's screams. When she called his name, he knew that his son was showing her everything he truly was and he was pleased. His son… a goddamn bull in a Spanish ring. No bullets would finish _El Diablo Blanco, _nothing would bring down this God-sent man.

Across the room, Rico lay curled up on the floor like another dog, shivering and bloodied and whimpering.

Pedro had sent the boy in on purpose, to infuriate _Blanco,_ to set his insides on fire. He'd been too quiet these weeks, dead, asleep, disconnected and in shock. Nothing moved him. So Pedro had to take action. When his son had passed out from the rum, the boy had shrugged, saying he did everything and he's out. So Pedro told the boy to start in on him. Get him going… he will respond to you. He will feel you moving on top of him and he will remember and he will...WAKE UP.

He will hurt me, the boy said.

"Yes, he will. Now do what I tell you."

And that he did. And the White Devil acted like clockwork. Pedro had told Gloria to go in as soon as _Blanco _awoke to the boy...and by "awoke" he meant when he got upset. He will be hot, Pedro had said, he will need release from the boy's play. He WILL be excited. He will want you. You handle him, take the passion the boy will inflame. You soothe him… he'll begin wild, but by the end he will be sated, he will be spent, but he will be AWAKE once more. Ready again to lead MK.

"_He won't hurt me, will he? You wouldn't..."_

_"Of course not... he will just be passionate... from the boy. Nothing too much, mi Gloria preciosa."_

He was not worried about the girl, she would recover. She always did. This was a sacrifice that had to be made.

When the room grew quiet, long after it grew quiet, Pedro went upstairs and opened the door the rest of the way. Found his son awake and sitting up on that bed, naked in the dim light, his heavy cock lazy and rooted in an unruly nest of hair. His cool expression told Pedro that the he'd been fucked good. Gloria lay next to him, equally raw, asleep.

"Pedro…why are you listening outside my door like a peeping tom?"

The old man laughed, "There was confusion, _mijo_… the boy was meant for someone else. I am sorry. I am here because I wanted to be sure that Gloria was able to... mend things. That you did not kill her."

"You care about Gloria?"

Pedro paused at that, hearing a very dark tone. "Yes, my son, I care about her."

"Then why did you give her to me? You sent her to mend things…? Knowing I was angry? You knew what I was capable of."

"I knew you would not hurt her."

_Blanco _laughed, "You knew I would not hurt her…? Is this...not hurt?" He quieted and glanced at Gloria, the red marks on her neck and body, obvious, glaring, red that would turn to black. Blood on the sheets. Like fucking neon. He stared once again at an expressionless Pedro, raised a knee, lounging like a panther, "You are not to touch her again, _padre_. She is mine now. Only mine. She is no longer available to anyone else."

Pedro nodded, "Yes, yes...of course. She is yours. As I always intended. You will have to make up to her..."

Bristling, _Blanco_ huffed, "Make up to a whore? Who participated in making a fool out of me with that boy?"

"Don't blame Gloria...she is innocent."

"Mmmmm. Can I blame the boy? Or you?"

"Blame me. I made the mistake."

"Doesn't matter anyway...she's still broken and I'm still me."

Pedro smiled, "Yes, yes you are."

_Blanco_ chuckled, laying a hand on Gloria, caressing her head, smoothing her hair. "About that boy…"

"What about him? He's nothing, trash. I'll take care of him."

_Blanco_ rubbed his face, breathing in deeply, relaxing. Sniffed, scratched his balls. "I want him. I need him to work for me. He is also not available to anyone. Bring him back - he'll sleep in the alcove and she will sleep with me."

"Why do you need him?"

"_Padre, _you know everything about me. He intruded on my sleep. I like things on MY terms. I have… certain…_ wants _but only on MY terms. Next time...it'll be as I say, when I say, and he needs to be here for that so I want him. He is..._my type_, just like you told him." Looking around, he added, "And where's my dog?"

Pedro considered it and then capitulated to everything. MK was worth it...his son at his worst was always good for MK. He called the boy back upstairs, Rico… he wants you after all. Bring the dog with you.

The boy who wasn't really a boy walked in the room, eying the big cat in the bed. Abram took off and jumped on the bed. Getting right next to his person. The boy walked closer, taking small steps, clearly afraid. _Blanco_ looked him up and down, murmuring, "You're with me now. You are to do everything I ask… "

Rico agreed, and _Blanco_ studied him long enough for the kid to start visibly trembling. The boy could not stop looking at the wrecked woman on the bed.

_Blanco _then hissed, "Good, you're scared. Stay scared. If you stray from me, I will find you and kill you. You show disloyalty, I will kill you. If you ever…come near me when I'm sleeping… I will fucking tear your throat out with my fuckin' teeth. When I wanna fuck you… you will know it. _You will feel it._" He looked the kid, up and down, grunted. "Get to bed."

_Blanco_ glanced at Pedro who lounged against the wall. Looking smug, satisfied.

"I am healed...yes?"

"Yes, yes, you are. And I could not be prouder of my bastard son, Cuba's bastard son. MK...will reign again now that you feel...everything… and are purely yourself."

Todd Manning flashed cold eyes at his putative father and said quietly, "_Buenos noches, padre. Gracias por su generosidad, por su fe en mi." _

Thank you for your generosity, for your faith in me.

When Pedro left, Todd looked down at the old scars on his fist...the letters L-O-V-E. Glanced at the wounded woman next to him. Gloria opened her eyes to him and he caressed her again, whispering, "We will kill him. You will be free. I promise you this." She nodded, curled up tight, a new day coming.

Yes, MK had its favorite bastard son back, awake, on fire, a fucking mad king, _un Cubano del sangre… _

...and he was going to make untold hell for MK. Scorched earth. It was the only way to save his soul.

_Who would he be without love, without Tea Delgado to humanize him, without even the echo of her? _

_A monster, through and through, dangerous, violent, unstoppable, unforgivable..._

_...forever seeking redemption._

* * *

><p>Benicio Juarez slammed open the door to George Strauss's office, demanding loudly, "Where the FUCK is Todd Manning?"<p>

George and Tea Delgado looked up, George smiling, "Ahhh yes, my wayward client, Todd Manning."

"I get that he got shot, I get that. Time to recover is necessary. And I gotta say further, Strauss, I kinda think he deserved that shit. You, Ms. Delgado, are smart and got a good head on your shoulder, so I figure Manning got capped because he fuckin' asked for it. But… he had a job to do. And he… has seemingly fallen off the face of this earth. Where is he, counselors? Where is TODD MANNING?"

Benicio was foaming at the mouth, that anxious to get some answers. He had invested a whole lot of personal money and time in setting up a covert op to take advantage of Manning's access to a serious child pornography ring and hell if that motherfucker was going to screw it all up. Kids were dying RIGHT NOW and he goes fuckin' AWOL?

_Sonofabitch_!

"It's the heroin isn't it? He's gone off the rails, like you said? That it?"

George raised a finger, "Not exactly! Wait...the answer for you, sir, is riiiigght here!"

Tea didn't say anything because she'd just brought George a letter from Todd. It was rough. A rough, rough letter. He was ugly, raging, ranting, making no sense. Tea had received it this morning, a beaten up letter, crumpled and unfolded over and over. Booze spilled on it...she had burst into tears because the letter confirmed that while she had tried to kill _El Diablo Blanco, _the fact was she had killed her husband, the good part of him, the wonderful part of him, the man who wanted a beautiful life next to her. All that was left was the worst of Todd Manning: _Blanco. _

She had burst into tears because her hormones were out of whack. She touched her belly protectively while George hunted for the letter on his desk. Benicio looked at her…

"You expecting?"

She nodded, said quietly, "Yes."

He got a funny look on his face, whistled, seeing the obvious complication...crazy crazy fate..."That's a hell of a thing. Congratulations? Or condolences?"

She glared at him, disgusted, returned to watch George hunting. How could the letter disappear in minutes? He finally pulled it out, reading. Mumbled the first few words, "Ruined my life, fuck you, don't ever want to see you again, bitch, fuck you...fuck you… and fuck you...I think that says… ah...you're a whoring cunt...yes, yes, here it is, he's in Havana, Cuba. Oh and he says, tell that Juarez motherfucker to die a fiery death. There's more… of course…"

Benicio looked at Tea… "Me? Why ME? I saved that bastard's life...he has goddamn immunity..."

"He writes, tell Juarez to go fuck himself a few more times. Precise words are: Touchdown or not, fuck off."

Tea looked up at Benicio because he gasped. Struck. George smiled.

"Did you say touchdown?"

"Yes, I did, Mr. Juarez..._touchdown_."

"He's made contact with Manuel Caro."

Tea blinked, "What?"

George smiled, blue eyes sparkling, "Sweetheart, my darling lawyer, he wasn't hating you… he was writing in code. The name of the operation is _Touchdown_. He knew you'd bring the letter to me."

Tears suddenly came again, "Where's the part in that _code_ that he says he forgives me? I didn't see that. There's nothing but hate, George."

"Here…right here in the middle of the crazy rant, he says, 'you can tell me all you want about your sorries...fuck you…no sorry. I will breathe again, bitch.' Later he says…'you'll breathe too.' Granted he says, you'll breathe the fires of hell...but that's the code. I might be crazy, Tea, but I know my client. He's telling you… no sorry. You have nothing to be sorry FOR. He will breathe again...he will be okay. And so will you."

Tea looked at him, tears coming anyway. "Do you really think so? Is this real?" Truth was, she knew him, too, and those were his sentiments, the way he'd speak if he could. Breathing...he hated breathing and yet he's promising to breathe. She huffed, wiping her face. Except...

"Yeah...he's working it pretty hard. You gotta KNOW our boy. Anyone else would read two lines of that shit and tape the thing back up. Or burn it as an exorcism."

Benicio shook his head… sat down. "Are you kidding me? _Cuba_?"

"Not kidding, and yes, Cuba. _Havana_, Cuba." He tossed the letter at Benicio who read it, being fairly impressed at the ten pages of seemingly mindless ranting that actually provided a fair amount of info to the people who mattered.

"There are numbers all over," Benicio said, "gonna have to send that to someone to figure out what the hell this bastard means." One thing though, when Todd said he had everything he could ever need in Cuba, the opposite was obvious. Todd had made serious contact and needed shit to happen. He needed help.

Benicio looked at George and laughed hard, and couldn't stop laughing. "He's a fuckin' monster, man." He read the letter again and looked up, all laughs gone. "Am I reading this right? This thing… is connected to Pedro Moreno? He writes, 'Pedro is king. My KING. MK will reign all the little children, all the future soldiers.'"

When Tea had read those words, she took them to heart. Thinking Todd had lost his mind, completely. And now...she was believing in him. Maybe there was hope?

_Hope for what? What would be left when he was done?_

George nodded, "I think that's exactly what he means. This ring has Moreno at the top. Manning wants to give you MK on a silver platter with Pedro himself being the man to turn state's evidence. Moreno himself will fall on the sword and bring MK down."

"How?"

"Thinking like Manning, Moreno might give up MK to avoid being brought in as the head of the largest child porn ring to date. Manning will have him by the short hairs, balls in his fuckin' teeth." George smiled and so did Benicio…"and I am pretty sure Manning will find a way to protect his own ass against Moreno."

"You don't think Manning will go down with the ship?"

"No fucking way," George said. "Hail to the mad king of the Mambo Kings, _El Diablo Blanco._"

George laughed, his head back…his laugh carrying out the open window into the northeastern summer current.

_Hope, my lost ruined beloved, hope. _

When Tea looked down at her baby, hidden deep in her belly, she pressed her lips together, holding in the forever loss of Todd. He may have made promises, may have shown his desire to end MK but the rage and hate and madness were real. He was so very lost. The men were laughing and celebrating but she had nothing to laugh about.

_We'll name you Hope because, my angel, I do not know your father will ever return. Every hope he might have had can live and breathe in you. I can only hope that he will find peace in death...because in life, he will always be alone in his hate, alone in his endless rage, a beautiful wildly mad mad king, indeed. _

**To be continued...**


	39. Chapter 39

**Caged**

Chapter 39

The guy's heavy fist landed dead center on Todd's kidney, sending him right to his knees, the pain blinding him for an instant. The small crowd of drunk men whooped it up, half in celebration that _Blanco_ hit the ground, the other half pissed that they were going to lose their money. In Spanish they yelled, "GET UP, YOU BASTARD!" Sweat rolled into his eyes, blood making his mouth taste like metal. He spat on the ground and stood up to more yelling and back slapping. He had no shirt on and he circled his opponent, evaluating his next move.

They were in the alley behind one of the many Havana bars. Todd's visit to the unofficial red light district usually devolved into this… a little alcohol, a few light insults, bets made… and here he was again. Fighting. His opponent was about his size, but not nearly as fast. The guy did have a heavy hand, though. He knew how to take a punch and knew when to throw 'em.

_El Lobo, _the Wolf, as his match was called, already had his fists raised, and motioned Todd to get back in the fight. "_Come on, coyote...what are you afraid of?"_

"_That you're going to kill me!"_

The crowd roared with laughter, Todd still pacing, not appearing ready yet. The men started chanting, _"Coyote, coyote, coyote_…" Their pet name for him. While the other guy was a grand wolf, Todd was a ragged coyote. He was a regular, and they all loved to fill their nights with a good knock-out. The crowd was getting eager. _El Coyote _finally put his fists up and purposely bared a bloody grin, getting the crowd roaring again.

Once again, _El Lobo _came at Todd, drawing his fist back, only this time, Todd moved away from the hit and landed a good one under the guy's chin, then once to the belly, and twice, three times to his face, fast, fast, fast. _El Lobo _crashed backwards into someone who pushed him right back in. Todd took some retaliatory hits but then fired back, bam, bam… right and left hooks, laying out _El Lobo_, ending the shit with a worn leather boot to the guy's throat, keeping him on the ground.

"_Stay down,"_ he hissed. _El Lobo _put his hands up - he'd lost this one, this time.

The crowd went nuts, men slapping Todd's back, money being shoved into his back pocket, money passed back and forth in the crowd. His shirt got tossed back to him, his jacket, and the leash of Abram. His dog was anxious. Someone handed him a beer and he sucked it down. He got down to the dog and petted him, whispered, "Sorry." Gave him a sip of beer, too.

Another night in fucking Havana.

He went into the bar's bathroom, locked the door and tore off his shirt. Rinsed a little. Stood dripping wet at the sink, hands on the porcelain. Shit...he was a hot mess. Swollen lip, eye reddening, hair all over the fuckin' place. Thick beard. He bent over the sink and washed more, pulling his hair back into a disaster of a pony tail. The dog eyed him, looking judgmental.

"He'd kick your ass, dog." Abram grunted at Todd's gentle voice. "But he didn't get _me_."

When he left the bathroom, the men joked at him as he walked past, others tossing insults. He turned and gave them the American finger and grabbed his cock and they all laughed at the meaninglessness of it all. Two women came up to him and shoved numbers at him. He turned to the men and shrugged. They laughed more… knew he'd be back to win or lose another fight against some other asshole.

He hit the now-cold air and pulled his jacket tighter around his body. He walked against the winter chill. He never seemed to warm up anymore. Nothing felt good, truthfully. The lights didn't brighten the street enough, music wasn't loud enough to mask his thoughts, and his drinks never were of a proof high enough. The fighting was all he could do sometimes… made him think he was accomplishing something.

He coughed and shook off the ever-present pain inside of him. Months had passed and while he was completely recovered from the injuries, pain always prodded him, whispered inside of him. An unappeasable pain. Sure, the fighting added to it... but that was external bullshit. This...was something entirely different.

Todd walked into one of the late-night dinner establishments that had become his own place of refuge. Raquel's _paladar_ was always warm and seemed to gentle his mood. He plopped down at a corner table, back to the wall. Abram lay at his feet. An older lady walked up to him, long white hair pulled away from a still-beautiful face, soft layers of print beneath her apron, sleeves rolled up. Her masculine trousers didn't cover her curves. Soft, maybe, but she knew how to use the sheathed knife she carried at her waist.

Raquel shook her head at him, "_Está luchando nuevamente." _You are fighting again.

He leaned his head back against the wall and smiled, a rare warm smile. "_El dolor se siente bien." _The pain feels good.

He didn't lie. He didn't like cutting and no longer burned his skin. The fighting did what the cigarettes used to do: short-circuit the thought patterns. Relief. He didn't always win his fights. Sometimes, he was the one flat on the ground, boot to his throat.

She sat down next to him. Studied him. She reached for his chin, grabbed his thick beard in her hard grip, "_Su alma...esta enferma." _Your soul is sick. She let go of him and ran a hand down his face, going gently on the tender spots. She smelled good, like bread.

"_Que quieres, Blanco?" _What do you want?

He smiled sadly at her, no answer coming to him. Her face was so open, so patient and warm… he almost bent over to lay his head on her lap. Almost asked her to rub his back like a child with his mother. What did he WANT? Thoughts stirred… of _them._ He resisted _them _taking shape, shut _them_ down, stopped _them_ from becoming whole images.

_Shhhh….._

He coughed and drew the coat tight again, asked for coffee and whiskey. Bring the coffee extra hot, make sure the whiskey is strong.

She stood up at that and left.

A sick soul… well… that was a colossal understatement. He was fucking sick to the depths of his soul at the hell he'd seen over the past four months. Funny how he'd been worried that he'd be using heroin by now, that being high would have been a necessity...and while that was true, he had quickly found that the thought of being high, being addicted, terrified him. He couldn't use because he had to be completely AWAKE in order to do what he was doing. He could not afford a single slip-up. Drink, he could titrate, that he could manage. Heroin? No.

But without heroin…the soul sickness was loud and ugly and _constant_.

As planned, he had given Manuel Caro the okay… yes, yes, Rico is enjoyable but he is older so, yes, how much for a boy, where. Caro sat with him in one of these bars and said, "$2000 an hour to start." That's a lot of money, Todd had said, way higher than street value.

"Yeah, a lot of money, but there are a lot of willing customers who will pay to get them _fresh_."

_Fresh._

"How old's the kid?"

"How old you want?"

"What do you have?"

Caro had laughed, glanced around the noisy place and said, "Anywhere from infant on up. Price commensurate with age. With use."

"Use?"

"The more used, the cheaper the rate."

"That's a lot of money," Todd had repeated to stop himself from puking right in front of Caro and blowing his bluff. Then he looked at Caro and said, "I want in… but not for the sex, I want the profits."

Caro had laughed and laughed then dropped exactly what Todd had already figured out. "You, _Blanco_, are already in. We are partners already!"

"_Show me."_

Magic words… Caro opened up like a goddamn sunflower. He didn't even question _Blanco's _interest. There was immediate acceptance and trust. The guy seemed to have been just waiting for it.

It didn't take long for Todd to figure out the cookie crumbs…where they led. Proof was a tougher thing however. Directly tying the ring to Pedro was also proving difficult. So months of following trails, coming upon houses retrofitted for film-making, for meetings, for _dates_. He saw websites, pictures, movies…faces, faces, faces… It was bad. A major tourist trade.

Not a single child saved yet. Sick to the depths. Halfway through he begged Benicio Juarez to send in the troops...we'll do forensics, we'll claw our way to the proof, but Juarez begged back.

"_No. If we end this now all we got are the lower-end distributors - we don't have Moreno, not even Caro - not on paper. Can you hang in there a little longer, buddy?"_

"_It's killing me, man."_

"_Get Moreno talking. Expose the trail that leads to him. Then we'll end it. Pull yourself together. We're so close."_

The operation was based in Cuba. Surprise, surprise. And like spider's legs, it stretched globally. He knew the profits were laundered through Pedro's businesses but he couldn't trace it. Money seemed to stop at these lower-end people - it made no sense. When he flew home, he'd isolate himself in his office, pouring over MK records for anything, ANY kernel that would connect Pedro to those kids. How many times did he have to pick up those papers from the floor after throwing them across his office? How many laptop computers did he bust from not being able to SEE the connection? They needed an expert. Or fresh eyes. But he couldn't risk showing this shit to anyone. Too dangerous.

So yeah, he was sick in his soul. Flying back to Cuba to start over. Again and again and again.

"_I am leaving," Pedro Moreno announced that morning after Blanco had finally woken up and retaken his place in this world. Pedro had come downstairs, bags in hand, and found his bastard son in the kitchen, making his own coffee. Gloria and the boy were still sleeping. The housekeeper was gone, this being the weekend. _

"_I want you to stay, my son. Cuban air is good for you. You need it."_

"_You're comfortable with me being away from MK business? Been gone a long while." He stood at the counter in boxer briefs, significant scars and color revealing a long violent life. Violence that had made him the bastard son of a king, a future king himself._

"_You haven't been far. We are not far. Continue to run things from down here. Use the computers at the cafes. Use my telephone. MK is doing well," Pedro said, getting a china cup, filling it to the brim with the black coffee. "Thanks to your hard work, my son, MK is a fine machine. Rolon and I will keep you informed."_

_Todd was quiet, drinking the coffee. "What of Gloria?"_

"_If she no longer makes you happy, I will send another-"_

"_She will do fine."_

"_The boy, too… if he does not please you...?"_

"_He'll be fine, too… I know how to deal with young men like him." Pedro's expression seemed open, curious. Todd took a risk at that opening of a door. "_Padre_, how good a friend is Manuel Caro?"_

"_We are like brothers."_

"_Can I trust him? With… with my interests? Are you okay… with my interests?"_

_Heavy risk. Moreno had smiled, sipping the coffee. "You are my prince. What you want...is what you want. Who am I to stop you? Who is anyone to stand in your way? I saw that in Statesville. You took what you needed and you made us strong. I will not ever stop you as long as MK remains STRONG."_

"_You don't appreciate my use of heroin. You stop me there."_

"_Because it makes you weak. Your interests… do not."_

"_And so I can trust him...?"_

"_Yes, my son. You can trust him...and you can do whatever it is you need, so long as MK remains strong."_

Raquel brought him old-fashioned chicken soup, hot coffee spiked with whiskey. And an ice pack. Gave Abram a meaty bone. She sat next to Todd, her back to the wall also, and watched the customers. He pressed the pack to his face, closing his eyes. She ordered her helpers around. She and Todd talked about business, the government restrictions, a little of politics. When he was finished eating, the spiked coffee drained, he thanked her. She took that beard in her hand again, studied his face. Nodded. The ice helped, she said, not so ugly anymore. He smiled at her. Paid her in American dollars, way too much, but she took the money and pocketed it.

"_Cómo puedo ayudarlo, mi amigo?"_

"You already helped me. _Nada mas es necesario. Gracias, Raquel, por todo."_

He got to his feet, tired, broken, frustrated. He'd seen too much today, having spent the afternoon sending links of ferreted-out websites to Ken McNair that Caro maintained, accomplishing nothing other than making him sick.

Abram looked longingly at the remains of the bone as they left the place. As Todd walked the long way back to the beach house, choosing not to use a taxi, he grew cold again, the sickness gurgling up like mud. When he hit a dark alley he turned right into it and slid down the wall to the wet ground where he held his heavy head in his hands. Those poor kids, so many...so powerless...

The dog eased next to him, licking his face, offering his own warmth to his very important person. So many small souls… that Todd simply could not help from this distance. He could not crash these places, not yet. He just sent information to McNair, bits and pieces and names and places… and links, links, links…

_Que quieres, Blanco?_

What did he want. Heroin. He could just feel that relief. It would soothe his soul, lift him up and out of the pain… but he didn't dare because if he died before finishing this, the hell would continue for those children. No, despite his desperate wish to disappear into the arms of the Princess...he had to finish this work first.

_Que quieres, Blanco?_

His family…

No, no, no… to want them hurt too much. He shuddered at the memory of those bullets tearing into him. His family didn't exist to him anymore. Tea needed him dead, so he would be. He loved her that much, enough to give her what she wanted. Surely they are safer, better off...she is right, dead is better...

Shhhh… don't know names, don't know how they smell as I breathe in their scents at their necks, how they feel in my arms, how they sound as they laugh or cry or talk… my sweet boy, sweet Reese smiling and giggling wetly as I spin you around… beautiful loving innocent Lucia against my chest as you tell me your stories of the day, bright eyes… as you say softly in my ear, _I love you, Papi._

_Stop, stop, stop, stop..._

He jerked awake, surprised that he'd been sleeping, dreaming… the cold hit him hard, rising up through his ass on that cold ground. Abram didn't like this. Made him think Todd had a seizure. The dog pulled at the leash, whimpering, debating whether to get help. The dog licked his face, pulled the leash again.

"I'm okay, I'm okay..." Todd said, unsteadily getting to his feet. "Let's go, bud."

When he reached the beach house, the place was desolate, dark. The housekeeper had left on holiday and Rico was off with his rotten family, family that sold him into prostitution in the first place. Rico himself had become an efficient, sneaky reporter to Todd, giving names, places, links. He told Todd how the system worked. He was loyal, _now._

At first he had to be forced into loyalty, Todd showing him the right side of his fist when the kid tried to go back to his old pimp. He had no mercy, the beating harsh and lasting. The kid though began to see the light under Gloria's tending to him that week...over time he learned what Todd was doing. Had a come-to-Jesus moment. Got on the floor, kissing Todd's feet…Rico had a brother who'd been killed by a john. He'd do anything to stop the hell.

Since then… the kid wasn't a problem. He was fuckin' loyal.

When he climbed the stairs to the bedroom, he saw Gloria lying in the bed, the moonlight showing her to be awake, to be in nothing but a sheer nightgown. She put a hand out, said, "You are cold, I can feel it from here."

He said nothing and took off the collar and leash, the dog collapsing on the floor. He stripped naked. Climbed into bed and into her arms.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" she whispered, knowing he wouldn't answer.

She did not love him; he did not love her. They understood each other. They understood the hard and risky work at play. She was loyal to _Blanco_, too. If it had been any other man that one night, she would have been dead. This she knew. The damage he had inflicted on her had been with purpose, for a larger cause. He never gave her such pain again. Not like that.

_The next day she had awakened to him standing over her. It was already afternoon. Hard light eyes looked down at her. She tried to cover herself with the sheet but he yanked it off of her. She looked up at him, bracing for another assault. Rico was sitting up his bed, watching._

_She'd been fooled by Blanco's quiet. She'd been fooled into thinking that he'd been tamed. Above all, she'd been fooled into thinking he was merely a Pedro Moreno soldier. The hate he felt for Pedro...surprised her, scared her. She did not want to get caught up in a war that had nothing to do with her._

"_I am not going to kill him - you will have to do that on your own," she said, trying to be brave or something. Maybe she wanted to show him that even though he owned her, he would not own her mind. She would choose who to be loyal to._

"_He left. We are alone, now."_

_She braced herself. This boy would see her get raped. She curled up to protect herself. Suddenly, she felt his arms beneath her. Blanco lifted her up and walked into the bathroom where a bath awaited her. He settled her into the warm water. There, he proceeded to wash her, to hold the hot washcloth to her injuries. He was so gentle, so delicate, that she found herself crying. Nobody had ever done such a thing for her._

"_You hurt me," she said. "Badly."_

_He had sat back on the floor, arms around his knees, and let her soak in the hot water. "I am sorry for that. I had no choice."_

"_What do you want from me?"_

"_To make sure I wake up in the morning. That's all I ask."_

"_You will not hurt me again?"_

"_No, unless you betray me. Then all bets are off."_

This turned out to be work that gave her purpose, a kind of purpose she hadn't experienced before. She wasn't just a whore anymore. She realized this was life and death and a desperate march to freedom.

She held him until his skin felt warm. He nuzzled her neck, and she knew he wasn't going to just sleep. Which was good. Sex kept nightmares away. He had long forgotten his lines he didn't like crossed. He no longer reacted to her offering herself to him. Sometimes, in fact, she had to force herself on him. Not for her, not for sex... but for him. Sometimes she'd wake and find him unmoving, disconnected. She'd call his name and even slap his face but he'd just stare into the morning sun. Then she'd just lie on top of him…

_Come on, Blanco… come on, come on… wake up, you have to work, you cannot die now, wake up wake up wake up! _

Her weight, her forceful fighting of him, would finally get him to look at her, to move, to wake up. She was surprised at how literally he had meant the job of "waking" him to be.

He lowered the strap of her nightgown and took her nipple into his mouth, tugging it in between his teeth, just a little. She caressed his head, his shoulders, his back, as he touched and suckled her, her breath coming faster. She opened her legs for him and he kissed-bit her skin all the way down, until he pressed his mouth against the core of her, because he wanted her heat, sticking his tongue inside of her, pressing in and out, until she was shaking with an orgasm. She grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up to her, smelling her own spicy scent on him, and said, "Fuck me now, fuck me as hard as you can..." She kissed his mouth over and over, repeating the request, "Fuck me, fuck me…," as she wrapped her legs around him.

Sex had come to them unexpectedly. He'd had no intentions of it, no interest. But of course, he had found himself profoundly alone. Profoundly sad. Cold. It took a lost fight in a bar to make him weak. He'd been dropped at his door by his betting partners, a bloody mess. She'd been tending to him... fixing him. And she'd kissed his cheeks, chastising him, and at that last tender touch he turned his mouth to hers. He'd forgotten the lines he didn't like crossed. He had found that he needed her. They had sex on the bathroom floor with all that blood beneath them.

He shuddered with uncontrollable want and she held him tight saying, _yes, yes, yes...fuck me... _And he entered her quickly, moving inside of her quickly, powerfully. He kicked off sheets that tangled around his feet and pushed hard enough for that damn headboard to bang against the wall. She met his thrusts, her gasps rough, matching his, her hands tight on his long hair, the band that had been holding his hair having fallen out long ago. One hand of his lay on her throat, the other hand on the mattress, but then he fell onto her, pressing her to him, impossibly tight, touching, needing to feel heat. She held him tight to her as he reached his end, pressing into him, kissing his face, his heated skin. When it was done, finally done, he rested next to her, breathless...breathless. They looked into each other's eyes and she just waited, touching his face and beard, smoothing his hair.

"You will make sure I wake up?" he asked, almost childlike.

"Yes, _Blanco_. I promise."

"I think I'm dying. I think I will die tonight."

"No, you cannot die until you finish."

"You'll wake me?"

"Yes."

The sadness moved her, and she sighed, wishing he could go home, wishing he could return to the ones he never spoke of, the ones he didn't allow her to mention.

Abram hopped up on the bed, lying in his usual place right against Todd. He was surrounded by heat now, Gloria on one side, the dog on the other… heat he needed. There were nights when the shaking wouldn't stop and Gloria would call for Rico to help warm him and the boy would come and wrap his arms around him along with Gloria and only then would the shaking finally stop. It was Rico who told her...that wasn't cold, those were seizures.

She watched him in that moonlight. Grateful he was sleeping at all. He usually didn't. He usually paced the rooms below or sat drinking on the balcony until he couldn't drink anymore. She eased her butt back into the curve of his hard body, his arm wrapping immediately around her, and waited for morning. Hoping the dreams would stay away from him, because when they came…he showed his violence. Before, the dreams had only brought tears, but now...she was always lucky to slip out of his reach just in time.

* * *

><p>Bo Buchanan sat in front of his computer, looking at an update from the gang unit. Violent crime attributable to gangs was down significantly, except for internal killings. Two key MK players had been murdered in the past week. Gunned down like dogs. Speculation… an internal war was happening. Further speculation, the dead were Moreno loyalists who might have resented the move of power to Manning. Someone was paving the way to a clean transition. Still further speculation...an outside gang was doing the killings, one that wanted Manning in place because it benefited them. All this was creating new instability. Dangerous instability.<p>

He picked up the phone, called George. "Where is Manning? MK men have been killed and I need a conversation with him."

"Safe and sound in Havana, Cuba, commissioner, doing investigative reporting for the Star."

"Yeah, that's the story, but what's he got to do with these killings?"

"Nothing that I know about. And TBH, Commissioner, I wouldn't tell you even if I did know."

"TBH?"

"_To be honest_, internet speak. All the kids are doing it, dad."

"Well, _TBH_, these killings are opening doors...and they're not good ones."

"I'm sure it'll work itself out. Not sure the killings will lead to bad things."

Bo grumbled, sat back, and shook his head. "Sounds like a man who knows."

"I don't know shit. Speaking as a layperson."

After a short aggravated sigh, Bo asked, "How is he?"

"Manning?"

"Yeah…how's he doing?"

"Oh he's great. Neck deep in child pornography, seeing shit that will turn the strongest stomach, and he's the perfect man for it. Right?"

Bo sighed, "His idea, remember? He using?"

"Don't think so. Guess he knows he'd go straight to the hot shot. Or maybe he knows it's just pointless. Nothing can numb this kind of pain."

"He giving up information?"

"Well, Benicio Juarez seems super happy. Shit is getting tough… protracted… I'm thinking he needs time away from it. Or just...needs to be pulled out, period."

"But Juarez won't pull him?"

"No…not quite there yet."

"But he's not doing too well…"

"No."

"He should be pulled. Puts the op at risk."

"No shit sherlock. But this is the Feds...and Manning's just a CI not an agent. They don't give a shit so long as he keeps spitting out information."

"Does he know about Tea? The baby?"

"Fuckin' kidding me? I don't dare tell him. He'll kill himself. No. Besides, he ain't very… uh… _communicable_. Remember those conversations with him in Statesville?"

"Yup...remember getting dragged across a table one time."

"And there you go…can't talk to him."

"Is he ever stateside?"

"Yup, comes in every once in a while, meets with Juarez...rents a motel room. Doesn't see anybody, really. Like I said, not very fuckin' communicable."

"Look, MK is undergoing serious shake-up… you better sit him down, find out what he's got to do with it."

"Told you, he doesn't have anything to do with these killings."

"So you say. Take note; they're all Moreno loyalists. Leaving Manning loyalists alive. Awful coincidental."

"Well… he has no control over fanboys doing crimes - don't waste his time - go find the real killers. Manning doesn't want to be king of MK...think about who really benefits from Moreno being gone."

"He'll benefit all right-"

"Not before this child porn shit is done. No, he needs Moreno ALIVE and comfie. Killing off Moreno loyalists would make Moreno distinctly UN-comfie. Might already be. It ain't Manning."

End of convo, just as Henry popped his head in and said, "we got another MK dead."

"Don't tell me. A Moreno loyalist."

"That's what the gang unit says."

"Jesus." He paused, "Henry… start doing your thing. If Manning has a hand in this, he won't be getting immunity on this. I think he's toppling the empire...which means he's playing a mighty dangerous game and he needs to be stopped. But a question….who else benefits from Moreno being gone? Who? Do the research."

* * *

><p>Tea Delgado had gotten used to the critical gaze of the Llanview residents. They'd look at her growing belly, then shake their heads. Such judgement. She was an unprosecuted criminal in the eyes of some. She should be in jail. Others seemed appreciative. Made her angry. <em>How dare you, <em>she'd think. _You know nothing of him._ Confusing protectiveness she felt for him.

Sometimes though, they had another look on their face - wonderment over who the baby-daddy was. She knew of course. _His._ There was no possibility of the baby being RJ's. They were very careful those few times they'd slept together. Always a condom. But she had gotten lazy about her pill and she and Todd never used condoms. She remembered when, too, that last night together. God...how she had wanted to feel him inside of her.

When RJ realized she was pregnant he cried openly, disbelief at first, then anger, then tears. "You were free of him, you were free… god damnit…"

"What made you think that, RJ?"

He had looked at her and laughed bitterly, "I don't know, girl, no fuckin' idea...but that's what I thought. That maybe by firing two rounds into that son of a bitch you were finally fuckin' DONE."

"He didn't die. You saved him."

The manic laughter echoed throughout that darkened club, the mad irony in RJ's efforts...the noise of his laugh echoed in her head for a long while after she left him. They did not see each other much, the bitterness too rough, too scratchy on their souls. RJ also wanted Tea safe, far away from MK/Posse business.

Months had passed by. Her life had settled into her usual routine - representing criminal defendants, balancing life as a single mother with work, managing the child care...seeing to their well-being, trying to be a great mother. Trying so hard to just be peaceful. It was hard. Impossible some days.

The holidays had been so difficult. Lucia suffered terribly...the pain of not seeing her father was tricky to manage. She did not know what happened. One day she'd learn. Reese was young enough not to fully understand, but old enough to know something was amiss. He asked for his Papi on occasion. Mimicked Lucia's easy tearfulness. Starr hated Tea with the fire of a thousand suns. There was no explaining what had happened. It was an accident. But clearly something more had happened. How else to explain the disappearance of her father? Their relationship was so strained, it made Tea cry. Jedediah, though, was devoted. He did not abandon Tea. He brought Rose to her. He tried to be strong for all of them.

She herself was in an in-between space - she didn't miss him, but she didn't get any pleasure in his absence either. She felt him. In her womb. In her changing moods. In the silence of the house. She saw less of the monster in her dreams and more of Todd. She found herself confused, actually, by his absence. He was less real in her mind, becoming a blend of memory and intuition and wishful magical thinking. She found herself wanting to reach out to him, but knew she could no longer be his savior.

She was the one who needed saving. She needed him to come save her.

_Impossible._

She heard nothing from him since the letter. George and Benicio were virtually silent on his comings and goings. She knew he'd come home a few times - heard that from gossip, from George. Had no idea where he stayed but it wasn't the Palace. He didn't seem to ever stay long, flying right back to Havana. Never visiting or contacting anyone. No family at least. Nobody had heard from him much less saw him. He was a ghost. The paper was fine, though. She knew he visited his office. Slept there sometimes.

Jedediah had seen him though. Tonight. Came to her right away.

"Where?" Tea asked, as they sat in her kitchen, winter already here. He'd blustered into the house, walking fast past her at the door and collapsing on a kitchen chair. He was a ball of energy though and stood back up, pacing the kitchen. The kids were in the family room, cozy with a last hour of TV.

"Chance meeting, just an hour ago," Jed said, sounding hurried, "...at Llanview airport. He was on his way out to Miami. Private plane." Jed seemed lost in the memory, pausing his story and running a hand through his long messy hair as he walked. Jed was just returning from a delivery for Gannon. Tea took the news calmly. She had been drinking coffee. Decaf. She pulled her robe tighter around her blossoming body. She sat at the table, watching Jed pace. His face crinkled with emotion.

"Spotted him right away - usual black clothes, got a pretty heavy beard going. Looked kinda thin. That walk I'd recognize anywhere. I was behind him. Called his name a few times but he didn't respond. I finally said, hey, Pops. That got him."

"Didn't respond to what?"

"_Todd._ Like it wasn't his name."

"It's not. His name is _Blanco._" She sighed. "_El Diablo Blanco."_

Jed stopped. "Shit, you're right. It's probably all he ever hears."

Tea put her hand out, "Just go on."

"Nothing much more, Moms. He said, _hey_. Kinda just looked at me. Then he said, gotta go." Jedediah whispered the words again, _"Gotta go."_

"Oh Jed," she said. She could feel his pain. Children are very different about parents than spouses. She had spent months being sensitive to her babies about Todd but sometimes she forgot just how hurt Jed had been at his disappearing into the Cuban wild.

"I called him and he just kept walking...Got on that fuckin' plane without looking back. Moms, what's he doing with the cops? I know he's busy with MK. But Bo mentioned something about immunity. Never told me what it was he was doing. Do you know?"

She nodded. "A little."

Jed sat at the table across from Tea. "He reminded me of when he was in Statesville. Not wanting anything to touch me. Just the same. I could feel it. Except this time, _he _didn't want to touch me. Like even talking to me was too much."

"Was he alone?"

He looked guilty, shrugged. "No. He was with a woman. I know her. MK whore. Pretty high up, actually. One of Moreno's...uh...I don't know, something like that." He paused, "They weren't close or anything. She walked next to him. Not close."

Tea shook her head. Almost laughed but didn't. "I'm not jealous, sweetheart. I'm worried." Whores meant heroin. Desperation. He did not love whores. "Did he have braids in his hair?"

"Braids?" As soon as he said, realization dawned on him. "Oh like Brandy. He might have...yeah, he might have, actually. See? That's not good."

"No. He's probably using. She's helping him, maybe, with the drugs. Keeping him alive." She drank the coffee, rubbed her head like she had a headache.

"What's he into, Moms?"

She studied Jed. "He's supposed to be getting information on a child pornography ring. He's acting a part of the ring. He suggested that Pedro Moreno is in charge of it. I don't know anything else. No idea if that's what's keeping him away..."

"Jesus..." The light went off. "This was what he was threatening Rose with. He said he knew people."

They were quiet. Jed then said, "Well, I don't care. I didn't settle for his wanting to keep me out of his shit back in Statesville and I'm not settling for it now."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to Havana. I'm gonna try to bring him home. For real."

"No, no...baby, what he's doing is dangerous. The life he's leading, the people..." She took his hand in hers, smiled gently at him. "This is much worse than Statesville. He had us, he had an end date...he doesn't have any of that now."

"Well, I'm gonna remind him of exactly what he has." He was on fire, an intensity on his face showing an immoveable plan. Damn it.

"No," she said, "no. I forbid you. He will HURT you. Remember? Think about Sixteenth Street. Think about that."

Jed smiled sadly, "I remember, but he didn't do it in Statesville. He knew I wouldn't fall for those bullshit tactics. So I'm going. He told me the only reason he survived Statesville was because of our letters. The world at home. The only reason he left Sixteenth Street was because of us. You're right, he has none of that now. I saw it...I felt it. He is LOST. I gotta get him out."

Tea got up and just hugged him, held him to her. "Baby...baby…" Tears started to come. "I love you, Jed. It's dangerous. I can't let you go. I can't. You are too innocent for this."

Jed sighed, shook his head, knowing he had blood on his own hands. "Nobody is innocent." He pulled out of the hug, staring at the space where Todd must have been laid out…

"I know why you shot him. If I'd been you, and I'd seen who he really was that night, in RJ's place, I'd have shot him too. To keep him away from my kids. I think of Rose now." He took his phone out. Clicked it to life, where Rose smiled up at him. He handed the phone to Tea. She smiled at the picture, running a finger across the screen. Viki had taken on Rose - she watched her when Jed couldn't. Viki was teaching Jed how to be a father - she was a wonderful aunt...Rose called her, "Aunt Beeki."

She looked at Jed, beautiful brave Jedediah.

"I saw video of that night, Moms."

"You what? RJ said he didn't have it-"

"He doesn't, not officially - it's gone missing. Will stay missing. My dad… he was ugly. Scary as all fuckin' get out. He was king all right and he was _comfortable_. Moms... you had every reason to shoot him down. That shit was bad. Not to mention that because of his doings, you nearly got killed."

"What I did was wrong. I killed him. What survived was someone else. I shouldn't have done it. I think what I did was unforgivable."

Jed looked at his phone, at Rose. "Guess you're even then."

She looked away, listening for the children.

"Maybe," she whispered.

"When he woke up, first thing he said to me when he had me alone was to end _Los Serranos. _Get me the time and place where the leaders meet, he said."

"Jed..."

"I got the time and place so he could make arrangements. I helped _end _them. I told Rolon exactly where those guys would be."

"Jesus CHRIST. How could he ask that of you?"

"Because it's what he does. Because I offered to help him no matter what. Nobody is innocent, Moms. We all do unforgivable things."

"So what is there to save then, Jed? He was vile in RJ's club and that was with us in his life. I cannot even begin to imagine who he is now. Though I suppose a slaughtered Serrano gang is evidence of who he is. And to have asked you to help him? My god. Let him find his own way home. And if he can't come home... then...let us just grieve him and learn how to live without him."

Jed glared at her, "No. I'm leaving in the morning. I know a little something about child exploitation. You know those pictures? That Phillip took of me?"

"Yes. What about it?"

"A victim's group called me - working with the DA. Told me those pictures are making rounds." He hissed, "_making rounds_. Sickos are downloading those pictures. So, if I can help my dad with this ring...I will."

Tea knew she could not stop Jed. She stood in that cold kitchen and breathed. Looking at this child who was now a man, perfectly capable of his own bad deeds, perfectly capable of issuing his own justice. The baby kicked her. She was a wild thing. Constantly moving. Constantly screaming at Tea. She was her father's girl.

Jed looked at Tea empathetically, Tea holding her belly and bending slightly at the movements. "This girl," she breathed.

He asked, "Do you really not love him anymore?"

Bang, bang, center mass. Is that love? It's madness. Fear. Desperation.

"I don't know," she whispered. "But I love you and Lucia and Reese and Starr...and this one. His child. _Hope._ That's what I'm naming her. Hope. She told me her name. I dreamt it. _Esperanza_, she said. _Esperanza, mami." _ She shrugged… "I don't know love anymore. I hurt him so badly. I was driven...I cannot take it back. I killed something inside of him. He should hate me. I am so so sorry."

Jed bent his head and tears flowed easily. "I can't give up hope. I can't. I'm not going to. Not until he's dead and buried. Please...understand. I have to do this. These cops...they don't care about him. They're using him to get to bigger places. Not caring what they're doing to him. He never should have been given this stupid chase."

"He wanted it, Jed."

"He had no fucking choice! They wanted to get him on Horenda's murder! Straight-up bullshit, Moms!"

She closed her eyes, glanced at the heavens. "I don't know - is it bullshit? I have no idea anymore. I thought he wanted out of MK, other times, not so sure. He always had something else going on, some other agenda - I thought I knew everything, finally...except every time I breathed, there was something else to know. Something I couldn't deal with. Like a never-ending-maze. Every turn was a new shock, a new horrible thing…Horenda...I don't know. Maybe it was just straight murder. Maybe he should be paying for it."

She swallowed and rubbed her stomach, the baby kicking...always kicking… just like him...the baby was angry, defensive, screaming at Tea to not give up hope…

_Don't give up on him._

"The thing is, Jed, none of it matters. I dream of him coming home to me. But he can't come home as long as he's with MK… and he's never leaving them. So he can't come home. I ache for him. I feel him next to me… I see him on every corner, in the back of the courtroom… I hear his voice everywhere. God DAMN it. Is that love? I have no idea."

She wiped the tears away. Studied Jed. "Maybe when I shot him, I had hoped to finally rid myself of my love for him. Because even though I watched him act like a monster at the club, killing a man as easy as breathing, and ordering his soldiers to do the same, I found that when I got here, I still wanted to hold him to me, and I wanted to tell him...I love you. I love you. I love you." She sighed. "I shot him maybe because there would never be anything he could do that would stop me from loving him. And I couldn't live like that."

Jed was quiet. He sniffed noisily. Ran a hand through his hair. Finally, he said, "I get it. And I'm going to Havana."

Tea nodded, knowing her time for arguing was over. He had decided.

"Fine," she said. "But not alone. Let me contact Benicio Juarez and George… you go down there, armed with whatever help you can get. You need details. You need to know what you're dealing with. You're not going down there blind. So WAIT until all the ducks are in order then GO. Go see if you can bring him home for good."

She grabbed his face in between her hands, "I love you, Jedediah. You promise me to not be stupid. To not take unneeded risks. That if he's too far gone, you will WALK AWAY. Promise me. PROMISE ME! You have a daughter now. You have greater responsibility."

He agreed, in Spanish. "_Te prometo_."

When Tea held Reese in her arms later that night, she sang to him. She rocked him to sleep. She hoped like hell, Jedediah would come home safe.

She found herself silent for any other hopes at all.

**To be continued...**


	40. Chapter 40

**Caged**

Chapter 40

The beach house looked worn, like a lot of storms had hit it over the years and there'd been no money to make repairs. An ugly chain link fence protected it from wanderers. Shrubbery rounded the perimeter, sandy dirt all along the edges. There weren't a lot of neighbors. Whatever money though there was, went to the windows. They were impeccable, in perfect gleaming condition. Jed looked up and down the beach. Lit up a cigarette. They were damn far from Llanview, PA. He adjusted his blue beanie, sniffed noisily.

Ken McNair took a swig off his soda, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "So what's your plan now, dude, now that you know where he's been living?"

They sat on a bench on the beach, a ways away from the house, but close enough to watch who came and went from the place. The late afternoon's grey skies threatened a winter storm as they ate plantain chips. Jed had seen him already. He had been on the upstairs patio, drinking something, eating. Had a newspaper, it looked like. He left to walk on the beach around three, that dog in tow. He seemed quiet, to himself. Contemplative. Didn't talk to anyone. Looked just like Jed had seen at the airport: black clothes, thick beard, wild long hair pulled back. Bet the braids were still blended in. He'd gone inside and hadn't come back out since.

"I'm gonna talk to him. Get him to quit." Birds screamed overhead, the ocean's waves rolling across the beachhead. The bag was empty and Jed crumpled it, shoved it into his bag.

Ken smirked, "Bullshit."

"What?"

"Jedediah Chant… we're in this together. Gotta be truthful."

Tea had followed through on her promise - connecting Jed with people in the know: Benicio Juarez and George Strauss. They talked to him, gave up details, and sent Ken McNair with him. He knew Todd Manning from Statesville, they said. Don't be fooled by McNair's gentle appearance - he's damn tough and damn capable of taking care of himself.

Juarez said, "Yeah, I'm on board. Manning needs to be pulled out of the operation." They'd do the forensics, he said. Try to get Moreno on paper. Juarez could sic the experts on whatever Manning had. FBI had been implicated already just what with Manning provided. Ending now wasn't great but it wasn't bad. Manning's own hopes would be dashed - he wouldn't have Moreno on his knees…

But it was time. Juarez's conversation with Manning the last time he popped up in Llanview cinched it. Juarez said, Manning hadn't been easy to talk to, there was a lot of stress, and at one point he was speaking Spanish like a goddamn local, forgetting who he was talking to.

_I met him, right here in George's office. I said, you're done. Operation is over. You ain't handling this. Except Manning... uh... disagreed, lifting me up right out of this fuckin' chair and saying, "I ain't done until I'm DONE." If he'd been an agent, I'd have taken him out right then and there. Could have had him arrested for assault on an officer, but I let it go. Thought I'd give him a chance. But I was wrong. Every day's at risk now._

What's at risk, exactly? Tea had asked that. Juarez had eyed her…looked at that growing baby bump.

_What's at risk? That's he's gonna go fuckin' postal. He hasn't really seen kids, not up close and personal. Every day puts him closer to them, every day he sees more. What will he do when he gets to them? And can't do shit about it because to take the kids would blow shit up prematurely? You think he's gonna just sit? NOW? Shoulda had him arrested. My mistake. Now he's in Cuba. I got no jurisdiction down there and he ain't been back._

So, yeah, Pops was cooked.

Jed rolled his eyes, tossed his cigarette into the sand. "I'm gonna help him finish this shit. Help him get what he needs. Juarez thinks I'm here to end this… I'm not."

"Yeah, I didn't think so. It's cool. I'm in. So how you want start?"

"I gotta see what he's up to. Get a read on him. Then I'm gonna knock on his fuckin' door." He chuckled dryly. "It's what I usually do when he's wandering the streets of hell."

"This isn't the first time you come for him."

"Nope."

"Hm. Why you keep comin' back?"

"What you mean, _why_?"

"Why? Why don't you just lead your own life. These kinds of dads...uh-uh. They don't deserve that kind of sacrifice."

"Too long a fuckin' story. But don't worry. I got my own life. It's just that at some point, I'm gonna get involved. I'm gonna help him. That ok with you?"

"Yeah. For now."

They wandered up and down the street a bit, never losing sight of the house. The sun began to set. As soon as that sun hit the horizon, _Blanco_ walked out the front door, Abram at his side. Jed hadn't seen the dog before. He was a tough-looking thing. Shit. He walked along the dark long road toward the city, hands in the pockets of his jacket. Lights were on in the beach house. Someone left behind. Jed figured the MK whore was there.

"Showtime," Ken whispered.

They followed him along the beach. A long damn walk to the city. Amazing that Todd never seemed to notice the two young men following him. He never turned, not even once. Disconnected, Jed thought. He walked like he did when he was on heroin. Hunched a little, cold. Abram noticed them though. He'd turn his big old head in their direction and Todd would pull on him to keep him going. Dog was smart.

The time was near eight in the evening when they hit the city. They were in the red-light district. Women and men for sale. Couples in and out of the bars, groups, locals, tourists. Place was busy. Todd stopped. Looked up at the signage of the place, down at his dog who was staring at Ken and Jed. Then...they disappeared inside.

"What do we do?" Jed asked.

"Go in. But maybe you should take your beanie off. Kinda recognizable, no?"

"He ain't with it, Ken. I can see it. I think he's using again. I think Juarez and George were wrong about him being off the dope."

They walked into a crowd of joyous drunken jumpin' people. The Latin rap music was loud and hard-core and people danced close, bouncing, grinding on each other to the heavy beats. Place was packed. He couldn't see Todd anywhere. Jed grabbed a beer at the bar, and watched from there. He thought he saw him, then didn't. He was a snake, goddamnit. Jed wandered the edges, even went into the bathroom. Nope. They'd lost him. Maybe he had seen them after all.

"Shit…" Jed cursed. Drinking up his beer. Smiled at the young bartender. She handed him another beer. Said something in Spanish to him. He shook his head. She got close, "You American?"

"Yeah."

"I like Americans. You look like another customer of mine but he speaks Spanish. You should learn Spanish if you're staying here in _Cuba_." She smiled prettily. Jed grinned, "Who do I look like? What's his name?"

_"Blanco Moreno."_

No shit. Wow. "He come here a lot?"

"Enough to cause a lot of trouble." She laughed. "Hope _you_ don't cause trouble."

"I gotta reputation then. I better get busy."

She nodded, smiling. "Come back when we close. I like you."

He smiled, drank that beer. Turned around, smack into Ken.

"You are the worst private detective… like ever."

"Fuck you. Like you're some kinda expert."

"I AM. He's in the back...and he's got a whole other kinda entertainment going on, dude."

"What?"

"Come with me."

Jed followed him to the back of the bar, walking down a long hallway. There were rooms all along the corridor. Curtains barely covered what was happening there. A whole lotta sex happening. Crazy. He had read that prostitution was illegal in Cuba. Clearly, this shit was happening anyway. They opened a back door to the outside and there was another rowdy crowd. He looked to Ken who moved to the side. A fight was happening - the grunts and hits making it obvious. Jed got on his toes, bending to see around the men. Saw the star of the show. He hissed, "Awww motherFUCK…"

Ken glanced at him, shook his head. Pushed those glasses up his nose. "Like Statesville all over again."

This was bad. Todd was in a bloody-ass fight and he was losing. He took a bunch of hits to the face and bare chest and belly and dropped to his knees. He was on all fours now, the big guy no less bloody, but on top. Winning. He paced around Todd, taunting him, calling him names. Abram was barking wildly, some guy holding hard to that leash and not having it easy. Everyone was yelling, man. Lots of money on this one. Jed saw the main guy holding the cash. Kept taking it. God only knows how he was keeping track of that shit.

The big guy walked up to Todd who was trying to get up, trying to stand up, and BAM, kicked him hard in the side, yelling something in Spanish to him. Jed jumped, Ken keeping a firm hand on him, "Stay back, Chant." The crowd got angry, arguments bursting. Other men were thrilled, hooting and laughing. Todd was down, spitting blood out of his mouth.

"Jesus CHRIST," Jed cursed.

"Yeah, don't know what this is all about but it looks like some kinda fight club. He came directly to this bar to do just THIS."

The big guy thought it was over, turning away, getting the crowd to yell for him and against him. Todd reached into his boot, pulling out a knife. Men yelled, but the opponent seemed oblivious. Todd slowly got to his feet. He stood there a moment and then rammed the guy from the back, getting an arm around his throat, the knife against his throat. Todd smiled, said something Jed didn't understand, the crowd going crazy. Todd spoke words in the big guy's ear… and then to the sound of yelling men, loud, loud…

...he bit the guy's ear, biting until the guy was screaming in agony, trying to get at Todd, flailing his hands but the knife kept him in place. The sound the guy made was primal, nothing but raw pain and shock. When he fell, Todd stood tall, blood running from his mouth like a fuckin' vampire. Something was in his teeth. He spit that something on the ground. Jesus. Part of an ear.

Jed looked at Ken, horrified, said, "What the fuck?!"

Ken McNair laughed, then didn't, seeing Jed's shocked face. "Flesh-eater is alive and well," he said.

Yeah, people went crazy. _Blanco _won. He threw his hands up, then hit his chest. Fuckin' victorious. Yelling something. He was... _unrecognizable_. He then screamed at the downed guy, "_Levántate, cabron! Levántate!" _The guy just shook his head, grabbing his bitten ear and roaring in pain. When the guy turned up his face to _Blanco_, cursing him no doubt, _Blanco_ grinned like a crazy motherfucker and kicked the shit out of him, one boot to the head, getting the big guy to finally hit the ground. He spat blood on his back at that. One final insult. Money started flying back and forth, the crowd fully sated, pissed off, mad with blood-lust.

Jed had no words. For a few seconds, _Blanco _looked in his direction but Ken yanked him backwards into the crowd. Huffed, "We done here?"

"No...I gotta… I gotta..."

"We gotta stay out of sight, dude. Seriously."

Men were around Todd, smacking him on the back, familiar laughter. The bruising on his side was already blossoming into purple. He spat more blood on the ground, sweating, his eye swelling. He held a bottle of beer to the side of his face. Spoke Spanish to one of the men, sounding no different than any of the men around him.

The big guy had his people, too. The guy walked up to Todd, angrily pointing a finger at Todd, threatening him. Todd knocked his head back, said something in Spanish that wasn't friendly nor a concession. The opponent had to be held back, and so did Todd. Three men held him while Todd screamed bloody hell at that guy. The big guy finally backed down. Waving his hand, blood all over the place from his torn ear.

Todd shook the men off, dipped down, petting Abram. Calming the dog, calming himself. The dog stood at attention, eying everyone. He was definitely guarding his person. Looked pretty intense actually. Fuckin' pit bull man. Sweet maybe, but he had a way of making himself look damn dangerous. Todd took his shirt from someone. Tenderly put it back on, buttons undone. He sat back on his ass, against the wall, drinking. A woman walked up to him, giving him another drink. She got down to his level and then... Whoa, gave him a hard kiss to the mouth much to the entertainment of the crowd. She smiled, licking blood off her lips. He just shook his head, looked arrogant. Eyed her, grabbed his cock and said rude things. Playing a role. She laughed, getting grabbed by some other guy. Jed could tell that man didn't want that woman to have _anything_ to do with _Blanco Moreno. _

Jed and Ken were still in the shadows, blending in with the people. Jed wanted to go up to his father. Felt compelled to do it. He took one step and Ken grabbed him hard, "No fuckin' way. He's with his people. He's got a cover to maintain. We wait until he gets back the beach house. We'll talk to him tonight, provided the house is clear."

Jed wasn't stupid and no, he did not want to make things worse. As hard as it was, he walked away with Ken, back into the cold, back into the shadows.

* * *

><p>Drinking the rest of the beer, he put the bottle down. Petted his dog. He saw that colored beanie in the crowd. Had seen the same beanie at the beach...and on the way to the city. Following him. He had a feeling he knew exactly who that was. He hoped he was wrong… he did not want to think of it. He did not want to think of who owned that beanie.<p>

_Shhhh…._

He kept looking in the direction of where that blue hat went. It was gone now. He drank more beer, letting himself get a little drunk. Several of the men sat next to Todd. They were chuckling quietly, talking, drinking. Blood ran down Todd's face and he didn't do much about it. One of the men handed him a towel, and he took it. Murmured, "_Gracias, hermano."_ He pressed the towel to the cut above his eye. Glanced at the gentleman. He was a friend of Caro. Yeah, one of _those_ friends.

The man sniffled and got close to Todd, spoke in Spanish. _"You will come to the club tonight?"_

"_Look at me, Elon, I will scare people."_

The man laughed, _"Even without blood, you scare people."_

Nodding, Todd conceded the point. _"I'm not clean, not ready for a fine club."_

"_It is not fine. It is a place where we meet and talk of...common things. Clean up in the bathroom. Come."_

After a few drinks of beer, he agreed. What the hell. He never knew when he'd get good info. _"Yeah, give me the address. Time."_

Elon got up, handing him a business card with the address on the back.

"_You know where this is?"_

"_Yeah, by the Synagogue."_

"_Yes."_

After cleaning up, mostly, in the bathroom, he walked away from the bar. Headed to Elon's place. Thing was, he heard steps nearby. Got his knife out in case that bastard Salvador wanted revenge for the heavy loss tonight. Everyone was betting on that guy, but _Blanco _had faithful followers. The fallout was significant. Lots of money paid out to the faithful, lots of money lost by Salvador believers.

He paused his movements, hearing the footsteps stop. Every time he stopped, they stopped. He was definitely being followed. He cursed under his breath. He took a few turns, hoping to lose them, but they were pretty insistent. He gave it up. Headed to the house. Hoped they just kept their fuckin' distance.

He came to a private house, a large one, lots of windows, lots of rooms. Curtains blocking any view inside. He looked around, something catching his attention. Blue. Definitely blue fucking beanie. It couldn't be. He wouldn't. But it would be no surprise. Seeing each other at the airport was bound to have gotten the kid hot under the collar to get some answers. Todd knew his son. The kid had been patient at first, understanding his kinda having been kidnapped to Cuba. But when Todd told Rolon to tell Jed to stop caring, to not talk to him, when Todd stopped responding to Jed's concerned calls, Jed got pissed.

Rolon said, _Blanco, _your son has a message for you: _fuck you TOO, you fuckin' bastard._

But when he heard him call, "Hey Pops!" in the airport. He heard love there. He heard his son reaching out, just like he did the first time he saw him in the hospital, on Sixteenth Street, and in Statesville.

That damn kid.

Todd walked another block, away from Elon's place. He had to sit on the curb a moment, head in his hands. God… fucking… damn it. Jedediah was here. That was his blue beanie. God… fucking… damn it.

He cleared his throat and said softly, "Go home, Jed." He knew that wasn't gonna happen. Jed stepped out of the shadows, stood across the street. Todd looked up at his kid, that damn fucking beautiful kid. He had balls, that's for sure. He was all Manning.

"The hell are you doing here, Chant?"

"Comin' after you."

"I'm dead. You're supposed to be moving on."

"I can't."

"Well… you got no fuckin' choice. I am DEAD!"

Jed crossed the street, plopping down on the curb next to his father. "Not until I'm spreading your ashes or burying your cold rotten corpse will you be dead to me. _Pops._"

Todd rubbed his face, aggravated, grumbling words in Spanish. He looked at his kid and reached an arm around him, hugging him hard. "Go home," he whispered. "Go home, baby boy."

The hug felt good, felt like desperation. Jed knew that feel. He pulled away.

"I'm here to help you. We'll go to your house. Let me HELP YOU. Ken McNair is here. We're gonna finish this damn job of yours and you're gonna come home."

"There's nothing for me to go home to." Stared at the ground, the cold rising up. The pain inside of him… endless. He knew what Jed would say.

"Yes there is. Your kids. Aunt Viki. Starr. My Rose. Me. Even if you might not be married anymore...Tea is there, too."

"Doesn't matter. Tea needed me dead. It's better."

"For your new baby, too?"

Todd raised his head, eyeing Ken across the street, who stood, smoking a cigarette. The words had hit him, kind of bounced around in the ether. It took a few moments to fully take shape, to make sense. He turned to Jed. "What baby?"

Jed bit his tongue. He wasn't supposed to say anything. But oh-fucking-well. "Yeah, Tea… she's pregnant. Gonna be having a baby girl soon. Real soon. Name is Hope."

"_Esperanza."_

"Yeah, that's exactly what she said."

Todd said nothing. He scratched the cut on his eye. Rubbed his face. Then just held that heavy head in his hands. Abram got close to Todd. Licked his face. Pressed against his person. Softly he asked, "Couldn't this be RJ's kid?"

"Not a chance. Do you hear me? NOT A CHANCE. The kid is yours."

He looked down the block. Saw two men go in. He got to his feet. "I gotta go."

"We'll be here."

Todd nodded, giving in for the moment. He didn't really…_ feel_… anything. The booze worked against it. He licked his lips. Without thinking of Jed or anything, he reached into his pocket. A friend had given him Oxy pills. He knew they were bad. He looked down the street. He couldn't be fucked up. He could NOT be fucked up. Looked at the pills in his palm. But that was before.

Jed grabbed Todd's wrist. "You using dope, dad?"

He flinched, eyes darting to Jed, surprised it seemed that someone was talking to him. "What?" he whispered. "No…"

"You gonna start again with these?"

Todd looked at the palm of his hand, present again. Closed his fist. "Weak alternative. I gotta go."

Disconnected. Not sure if it was dope or not 'cause Todd wasn't exactly a truth teller when it came to drugs. He pulled away, walking down the block. Got that look again, hunched over, cold. Ken hopped across the street, getting next to Jed.

"Well, that went well."

"I don't know."

Ken watched Manning disappear into the house. "What did he have in his hand?"

"Oxy."

"Ah. Nice."

"He's gotta be on something to do what he did tonight."

"Not really. All he needs is _motivation." _ He put an arm around Jed's shoulders. "So… let me tell you about the Flesh-Eater..."

* * *

><p>Shutting the door, he followed Elon into the living room. About seven or eight men were drinking and talking and smoking cigars. They passed pictures around, sickening pictures, smiling and admiring and groaning with disgusting pleasure. Typical bullshit. Todd took a glass from a table at the side of the living room, poured the rum. His head… buzzed. His whole body… buzzed. He put the glass down and rubbed his face. Shook his head, delicately. Abram whimpered and pressed his body against Todd. He reached down and petted the dog, whispering, "I'm okay…"<p>

But he wasn't.

The men watched him as he made his way towards the back of the room. They trusted him implicitly because Elon would only bring in the trusted. He took a seat. He nodded at Elon, trying to be cool but feeling decidedly UNcool. He was buzzing from seeing Jed, hearing this news about Tea. Everyone in his family had come to life. Full, whole, living, breathing little beings right in front of him.

_Esperanza. Hope. Hope for what, Delgado? What are you saying in that name? You wanted me dead, so I am dead. Why are you trying to resuscitate me?_

He swallowed hard. The feel of his family, the physical feel of them made his heart hurt. He looked at his hand, the one without the glass of rum. He could feel Lucia's hair in his fingers, Reese's saliva as he wiped his little mouth, Tea's face against his hand… he could hear her voice, all their voices. Everything hurt now. The bullets… their pathway was lit up inside of him. He hunched over in pain. A man came up to him and spoke to him. He didn't understand the language… English. He could only understand the Spanish.

The man laughed and returned to wherever he came from.

_No, no, Delgado..._

He could taste blood in his mouth and he remembered choking on blood on his kitchen floor. He drank the rum fast and reached into his pocket for the pills. Yeah, yeah, oxy. Always good. Always a guaranteed bit of relief. He popped one, swigging it down with the rum. His lips felt weird and he pressed them tight. Someone came up to him, sat next to him. The mood in the room was changing. Men getting turned on. A TV was on. A movie. A sick, sick movie. He was having a hard time staying in the present. He looked at Abram. Touched him. Breathed. The room swam. He licked his lips. Rubbed his face. That cut stinging, buzzing...

Someone was talking to him but he couldn't really answer. The man started to get close to Todd, but Abram wasn't having it. Barked loud. He looked at the scared man, his lips moving… hands out. Tried to make friends… but Abram growled, low and threatening.

His hand stayed on Abram, wondering why the dog wasn't warming. Suddenly it dawned on him. Abram knew. A seizure was coming. He stood up at that. Walked slowly to the front door, knowing someone was calling him. He could barely see where he was going. When he turned to look back, a child was in the door. A girl. She waved to him.

_A child._

Yeah, yeah… shit… shit… shit… shit…

He did not know where he was… what happened to the bar? He pulled open the front door and walked… walked… walked… down the block, around the corner… walked… walked… and… and…

**To be continued...**


	41. Chapter 41

**Caged**

Chapter 41

Gloria opened the door, her eyes big, afraid. Dressed in jeans and a loose t-shirt, no shoes. Her long and wavy black hair highlighted her pretty face. Jedediah and Ken held Todd in between the two of them, his head down, his feet dragging. She immediately went to him, moving his hair out of his face, checking him. In Spanish, she said, _"What's happened? Is this another fight_?"

Jed smiled warmly and said, "English only. He'll be okay. Can we come in?"

"Have you hurt him? What did you do?!"

"No, no… but it would be really awesome if you could let us in. He's kinda heavy and he's not cooperating."

She pulled Jed in, shut the door, and ran ahead of them, "Come this way, upstairs. Put him on the bed."

Jed and Ken got him up the stairs and dropped him on the still-made bed. Immediately, he turned to his side and curled up, snoring lightly right away. Jed breathed out in relief. Abram hopped up onto the bed, getting tight against Todd, laying his head on Todd's waist. The dog eyed everyone, despite being friends. He trusted no one when his person was out.

Gloria turned on Jed, "What HAPPENED?!"

"It's a seizure. He has epilepsy. You knew that, right?"

Her eyes got wide, a light suddenly going on. "Oh! Wait...yes… a while ago Pedro mentioned that, and Rico, he said that, too. A seizure." She flashed to Jed, her lips still parted in a bit of shock at her sudden understanding, her brows pinched. "You are his son, Jedediah."

"Yeah. I'm here to bring him home."

She nodded, waving her hand in the air, "Let's go downstairs. We can talk there. Is there anything to do then?"

"No. Just needs to sleep."

Once downstairs, Gloria made coffee. They sat around the kitchen table waiting for it to brew. She'd put on a sweater and sat with her hands in her pockets. The pose made her look young, afraid. Ken introduced himself. A friend of the family.

"And who the hell is _Rico_?" Jed spat. Gloria got up at that. Getting the coffee, pouring the coffee. As she poured, she thought Jedediah sounded just like _Blanco._

"Well? Who is he?"

Impatient, just like _Blanco. _Gloria brought the mugs, setting them on the table. "He works for your father. Lives with us. He's out but should be back soon."

Ken dragged his eyes across the table, immediately suspicious. Then said, "But _who_ is he?"

She sipped her coffee. "A hustler, a male prostitute."

"Thought so," Ken quipped.

"What's that mean?"

Ken sighed, "A male prostitute is-"

"I know what a fucking male prostitute is! Why did you say, thought so? He's never shacked up with male prosts before."

"Just more of Statesville, Jed." He eyed Gloria and she glanced away.

Jed got pissed. "How?!"

Gloria smiled a little, said, "You are just like your father - so short on patience."

"Your dad employs hustlers to do dirty work out there. He did that in Statesville, ok?"

"Ok. Just had to say that." He turned to Gloria. "You didn't know about the epilepsy?"

"Yes, but I didn't understand what it was. I didn't even know he was having fits. I thought he was just cold? He'd wake me up, shaking. Breathing hard. We held him until it stopped. I thought he was just...cold. He gets very cold." She sighed, closing her eyes a moment. "Anyway, Rico said it was a fit. He knows more than me. I asked _Blanco _about it and he waved me away. Doesn't want to talk about it. Like everything." She looked at her coffee. "_Epilepsy_. I have heard of it. Never seen it."

"It's what his dog is for," Jed said.

"Yes, I remember now. Pedro mentioned Abram was to help. To me, Abram is just Abram."

"My dad fell in the street before I could get to him. Fell onto the dog. Kept him from getting hurt, banging his head or something like a … cushion." Jed paused. "Abram kept us away though… growling, barking at us, until my dad could stand up. I thought the training was supposed to be different - I was surprised he kept us away - we were trying to help."

Gloria shook her head, "Abram sees _Blanco _fight a lot. That's why he keeps everyone away - he has learned that everyone is dangerous."

Sounded right. Then Gloria asked, "Why are you here, Jedediah? He won't go home with you."

"I know. But… I'm gonna try to get him there. I want to help him. He's been upset about… Tea, his wife. You probably know everything about it. He doesn't seem to want us, but more importantly… he thinks we don't want _him_. I'm hoping to get him to understand that that's not true. We need him home."

She put a hand up to her lips, closing her eyes. Her hand shook a little. She looked sad, emotional. Jed thought she was pretty. A fine spray of freckles colored her cheeks, the bridge of her nose. She had an accent, regional. Like a long lost New York accent. She breathed, seeming to regain control, and then looked at the men. "You know he's working, yeah?"

They were not sure how much she knew. She did not know how much they knew. They did not know who could trust whom. Both men watched her, waited. Ken asked, "On what, tell me."

Biting her lip, she said… "Pornography."

"Child porn, child trafficking. We know. You can talk to us."

"Yes," she breathed out, the relief palpable. "He wants to end it. At least… the part of it that MK is involved in."

"Rico, too, helping, knowing?"

"Yes, both." She glanced at Ken again. Glanced away. Something was up with this _Rico_.

Ken then said. "We want to help him finish this work, so he can go home."

She burst into tears and cried quietly in her hands and Ken put a hand on her shoulder. "What's the matter?"

When she composed herself, she said, "I have been wanting him to go home. I thought from the start that he needed his family. He will not speak of them, of you. He has horrible nightmares - violent ones. Other times he cries in his sleep, calling names, but he won't go to you, Jedediah. He won't go to any of you. He fights those fights - I fix him, clean the wounds, ice them. Help him through pain. He keeps going back - the fights are dangerous. These men… they will kill him." She held that sweater around her. "So will the awful things he sees with these children. He comes back from working, sick, sick, sick. Every day, he seems to lose more of himself. I hope you are serious, that you will help him finish. That you CAN. So he can rest, so he can stop fighting, so he can return to his family." She whispered, "He needs to go home."

"That's the plan, Gloria," Ken said softly.

Jedediah looked at her, suddenly worried about those tears. "Does he hurt you? Are you… like… a prisoner?"

"No, no, no… we are… I have no name for what we are. We have an understanding. My job is to take care of him. As he says, to make sure he wakes up in the morning. He is afraid… of not waking up."

That sounded way too much like Brandy. Jed asked, "Is he on heroin? Is that why he wouldn't wake up?"

"No. He drinks, but not to passing out. I believe that when he says he won't wake up, he means… not...waking up." She paused, creasing her brows in thought and memory. "Sometimes, I find him staring into space, not moving, eyes just open… empty. He doesn't answer me, he doesn't talk, he just… stares. Even slapping him, shaking him, calling to him, doesn't get him to move or… _wake up._"

"Shit…,"Jed murmured.

Ken turned to Jed, "Now it's my turn… WHAT?"

"Disassociation. It's a… mental thing he can do, he does… not in his control. Not on purpose. He does it when the stress gets too much - he just...tunes out." He remembered that from way back in the days he first met Todd, in the hospital. Dr. Graham yelled at him, "He disassociated!" Doc had been super pissed at Jed kinda ambushing Todd. Good times.

"That sounds right," Gloria said, eyes wide, "Yes, yes… that's what I think it is."

"That's not good," Jed murmured. "He's not supposed to be doing that. Does it happen often?"

"Enough to be bothersome. Frightening."

Goddamnit. His dad so needed to be back home. What a fuckin' asshole. Selfish motherfucker. Jed tapped his leg, getting angry, getting beyond angry. He wanted to go upstairs and beat the shit out of his dad. He laughed suddenly, then he didn't. Spat, "That fucker. Thinks he can just die out here. Without a word to his family. It's why he's not taking his fuckin' medication for the seizures. A fuckin' death wish."

The other two were quiet while Jed stewed in his anger. Ken interrupted, "Look, I ain't no psychologist, but he keeps Abram. Why?"

"Hell if I know. A weapon? If that dude had let go of Abram tonight...he'd have fuckin' ATTACKED that fighter."

"No. It's to _protect_ him. He doesn't wanna die. I'm telling you… he doesn't want to. What's Gloria's job? To wake him up. If he wanted to die, he'd be using dope. He'd have offed himself months ago. In fact, if he wanted to die… he'd be dumping his puppy-dog, who lives to _protect_ him."

"Well, we'll see about that. What's the Oxy about?"

Gloria was surprised, "Oxycontin? He had that?"

Ken said, "Yup. I think it's straight painkiller. He's in pain. Like real physical pain." He looked at Gloria, questioning. She nodded. Ken pointed a finger for emphasis. "He's not jumping to heroin. That means something."

"Well, like I said, we'll see. 'Cause tomorrow, I'm kicking his_ fuckin'_ ass. He is SICK and he needs fuckin' help but he stays down here… DYING. I knew it, too. I told Tea that. That he's lost and DYING." He shoved the chair away from the table. Getting up. "Ah fuck this shit."

Jed went into the other room to brood, sat noisily on a chair. Then Ken heard him curse and go upstairs, stomped up the stairs. Ken smiled. All bark and no bite. The kid needed to be near his dad. He turned to Gloria. Broke out his pack of cigarettes. Offered her one. She took it, grateful.

"We don't smoke here," she said. "His lungs are still healing. Funny how he won't smoke. He does so many other things but not that."

They lit up, enjoyed the cigs. Ken studied Gloria. She was young. Maybe Jed's age? Ken got serious, said, "Okay, so it's like this. I gotta know shit. What's the deal here? _Blanco_ sleeping with you? I'm pretty sure you're not just friends with him 'cause he doesn't have friends. And what about Rico? He sleeping with _him?_ You all together?"

"Why?"

"Why? Because I'm running this child porn operation. He works for me and I gotta know the lay of the land. I need to know that when he leaves, he's not gonna have some kid going fuckin' crazy, demanding shit from him 'cause he's got a fuckin' broken heart. Pretty sure Rico is Cuban, yeah? Means he's not leaving... when _Blanco _leaves. And what about you? You gonna go nuts when he gets home to his wife? You gonna cause trouble in paradise? I gotta know everything. Right the fuck _now_."

She sat straight up, a bit surprised at Ken's aggression. He'd not come off that way at all. She took a deep breath and put her cigarette out. "We have a relationship, yeah. Sex keeps violent dreams away. Keeps him... human. No, I don't love him. He and I have an agreement - when he's done, I am free of MK. I will have my own life. I will be happy if he gets home to his wife, to his family. I mean that."

"Good. Tell me about this Rico guy. I gotta know who the _fuck _he is."

She studied the table. Looked at this pretty, curly-blond-haired man across the table with the round glasses, looking like a college boy. He did not talk how he looked. He seemed like Abram. Sweet looking, pretty smile, but would rip out someone's throat if he had to. She played with the cigarette case. "How well you know _Blanco_?"

Her delay made him shake his head. _Shit_. "We were in Statesville together," he said. "I guess I know him fairly well."

"Then you know that _Blanco _is one of those men who is like water. He is what he has to be at any time. He is a king of manipulation."

"Yeah." He pressed his lips together, crossed his arms. "He's fuckin' Rico. That's what you're saying."

She pulled out a cigarette. Ken lit it for her. She smoked, a gentle knowing smile coming to her. The way Ken described it hurt. Cheapened it. He did not know _Blanco. _She nodded, "I have seen them. Across the room, in the shadows. We share a room, but we are not…" She grew quiet, gazed at the table without seeing. "They move like the ocean, like the waves on the beach. Sometimes violent, sometimes gentle. They are quiet but not quiet enough. I have awakened to a cold bed and the sound of them, their fast breaths and whispered directions."

"Well, ain't that like fuckin' poetry," he murmured, remembering his own poetry to Manning. He knew she spoke the truth because... of that poetry. Her description was exactly what Kenny McNair, inmate no. 498043225, gave Manning the night Ken left Statesville.

_They moved like the ocean. _

She looked slightly defensive. Protective. "I think _Blanco _does it to control Rico. To guarantee loyalty and silence. He beat him once, badly. He needed to balance it out. I told him so. Like I said, _Blanco _is the king of manipulation. He does things that his heart doesn't feel, but he can do it. He makes his body… do it. The beating of Rico, the rape of me. He did not _feel _those things, _en su corazon, _but he did them because he had to. So, he sleeps with Rico. He doesn't feel it, but he does it. To keep Rico at his side, feeding him information. To keep him loyal."

He doesn't feel it? He didn't know about _that. _On this other thing though... Ken knew Manning's rap sheet. Didn't think he still did that shit. "He raped you?"

She shrugged, "I exaggerate. He was rough with me. To make a point. To make me loyal."

"Yeah… that's the Manning I know."

"He did what he did, to prove who I should be loyal to. He was RIGHT."

"And who was he competing against?"

"Pedro Moreno. _Blanco_ was rough with me so I would call for Pedro's help. I believed Pedro would protect me from… violence. He did not. He sat right there..." She pointed to the living room. "While I _screamed_ for help upstairs, while I _cried_ for help, while _Blanco…_ 'raped' me. Hehad told me that's what would happen. I didn't believe him. He proved I was wrong. Pedro did not lift a finger. He even kept Abram downstairs so he wouldn't interfere in _Blanco's... '_rape.' He could have killed me and Pedro never would have come."

Ken shook his head, pulled out a cigarette. Lit up. "So you and Rico are loyal to _Blanco._"

"Yes."

"Can Rico be trusted?"

"Yes. He gives _Blanco _a lot of information on the child trade because Rico lived in it - still has contacts in it. He comes home at night like a puppy dog." She picked up the coffee mug, swirling the coffee. "_Blanco _has proven his OWN loyalty to both of us."

"You loyal to Rico?"

She smiled, "Yes. He is still a child in some ways, but… brave. I worry for him. I feel for him, as a brother."

Ken sniffed, drank the rest of his coffee. Sat quiet, thinking. Rubbed his lip with his finger, a habit. "So... _Blanco … _makes the kid feel good, feel needed. Kid's a hustler. Gotta be fuckin' somebody to be useful. You think he'll be alright once this thing ends? Does he… uh… love... _Blanco?"_

She considered the question. Shook her head slightly, "I don't know. He wants freedom, too, like me, but he's a hustler. It's all he knows. That's why I worry. I think, he is confident that he will be safe at the end of this. He wants to help end the child trade or at least part of it. It will never actually end. There will always be monsters who prey on children." She drifted at that, thinking of memories. Pedro. "He will say his goodbyes. I believe that."

She glanced up at Ken. "Does it matter to you, Mr. McNair, that he sleeps with Rico? Is that different from what you know of him?"

He looked a little into the distance, then eyed Gloria. "No… not that different from what I know. But his son might mind. He might be... um... _surprised... _if Rico… uh… spills the beans."

She laughed again, quietly, "Jedediah is unschooled in complex sexuality? The spectrum of sexual identity?"

"And you didn't know _epilepsy_."

She smiled, her eyes full of knowing. Ken sighed, "When it comes to his father, yeah, he's a bit unschooled in...such things. Like most sons."

"We keep it quiet, then, until it's not."

"Yup, until it's not. And why do I feel… that it won't be quiet for long?"

"I have no interest in shocking anyone, much less _Blanco's _son. So I will do everything to keep secrets... and so will Rico. He would never do anything to hurt _Blanco. _He is… careful. Very loyal. " She then added, "_Blanco, _though, he might be the one to spill the beans. He might be reluctant to leave Rico behind in Cuba."

"Why?"

"Loyalty."

* * *

><p><em>The beating had been thorough. Rico had run away to his old pimp. Blanco contacted Pedro… "Who is he?! Where is he?!" Pedro gave him the name and address. He left Abram at the house and took a taxi into town to the address. Door was closed. He pounded on the door. Big old wooden thing. Stepped back and called the pimp's name, speaking his Spanish, "Gavín! Open the fucking door!" <em>

_Kicked the thing hard, over and over. Windows opened, other doors creaked open._

_Soon, a fat hairy man answered, peeking through a slit in the open door. Took one look at Blanco and shit his pants, scrambling to shut the door, but it was too damn late. Blanco pushed his way in and threw a volley of hits on the guy, one right after the other, hard hits to the jaw, the throat, the belly, the head...and when he looked up from the groaning Gavín, there was Rico, half-naked, in complete terror. He stood with about four other men his age, and a couple of women. They were all scared as hell. With good reason._

_Blanco marched over there, grabbed the kid by the longish black hair he wore and hissed, "What did I fuckin' tell you? You're MINE. Let's GO."_

_He dragged the kid outside, people looking out the windows, hissing, knowing that Rico was nothing but a street whore. Windows shut. _

"_You NEVER fuckin' leave me, until I SAY you leave me." And with that, Blanco slammed a fist across the kid's face, the kid crumpling like a house of cards. Then he picked up the kid on his shoulder and walked to the waiting taxi._

_When they got to the beach house, he kicked the kid up the stairs into the bedroom. Beat the hell out of him. Left the kid broken and in tears. A bloody mess. Blanco sat in that room while Gloria tended to Rico, cleaned him, bandaged him, dried his tears. Watched him like a hawk watching prey. Then, when the kid was clean, Blanco strapped him to the bed in the alcove using a rope from the pantry. Kept him tied that way all week, releasing him for bathroom breaks. Gloria brought food to him. _

_Rico was submissive then. Real submissive. Gloria cautioned, "He will hate you. He will SCREW you." She got close to him. "He will tell Pedro everything you are doing."_

_He knew it was wrong to unleash such hate on anyone, to act like such a monster.. Except Blanco didn't know any other way to develop dependence and loyalty in the face of danger. He wanted Rico's information since he was deeply connected to Pedro, Caro… the child trade. So… Blanco applied Statesville training to get him to stay at the beach house. If you want to control someone weaker than you, violence works. Keep them afraid. Destroy their trust of everyone. They will be submissive and do your work. _

_This wasn't Statesville, though. There were no bars to keep Rico in check. Rico could get them all killed. _

_So he eased up. Softened his treatment, attitude. Started talking to Rico. Learning about him. Giving him small jobs to prove his abilities. He also told Rico about his own experience with sexual abuse. The kid then started sharing stuff. Rico shared about his dead brother, how he got strangled by a sick pedophile. Told Blanco about his family, how when the government started loosening up on goods, on private business, they wanted money. So they gave their kids to prostitution. To make a better life, yeah?_

_Took a while to get to the information part. But he eventually got there. He was good at getting people to talk._

_Rico then put everything together, realizing why Blanco wanted information on the kid trade - he was going to end it, not get into it. The ring had been going on for about five years. So many kids disappeared. "I'm going to finish it," Blanco said. That had gone a long way towards loyalty, but he wasn't quite there yet._

_One late night, Blanco had stayed up drinking. Listening to the waves. Lost in his thoughts. The kid went onto the patio. Pulled Blanco by the hand, a small tug. He had nothing on but those soft pants with the drawstring he slept in. Showed off his slender body, no tattoos or scars. Nothing people could see._

"_Come inside," he said softly. "Come with me."_

_It was a reward. A giving of himself to Blanco. Total and complete loyalty. To not go along would… maybe… confuse Rico based on what he thought he knew. Upset the balance. Blanco thought about this for a long time. Certainly he could say he was straight. But this was Rico's gift. He had nothing else to give... nothing that would show his complete devotion. And Blanco knew he could accept the gift. That he was _capable_ of accepting the gift. _

_He then got up, thankful for the booze coursing through him. Walked past a sleeping Gloria. Went into the alcove. Rico lay back on the bed, still holding Blanco's hand. He untied the drawstring, lifted his hips to lower the soft pants, showing curled hair, a soft cock. Blanco put a knee on the edge of the bed, understanding this ritual, this formality. He stepped out of himself. Watched himself from far away. _

_He got onto the bed then, lay next to Rico. The boy, who wasn't a boy, caressed his body over the dark clothes. Ran his hands up and down Blanco's chest, his face and beard, his hair. Placed soft kisses on his cheek. Wrapped his leg around Blanco's legs. Blanco unbuttoned his shirt…slowly, tentatively. _

_Rico touched him more now, felt the tightness, kissed nipples, dipped a tongue in the well at the base of his throat. Then climbed on him, skin to skin, holding him, straddling him. Said gentle words, "you're beautiful. Like an animal. You're strong and frightening." He kissed Blanco's neck, then… his mouth. Felt hard hands on his back, strong arms pressing Rico tighter to him. _

_Blanco responded only slightly, letting his lips be bitten lightly. Tasting the lips of Rico, soft, full… bearing a kind of nonsensical innocence. Realized... he had never done this sober. He'd always been high on heroin when it happened in Statesville. Wasn't really sure he could do this. _

_Rico sat up a little, led Blanco's hand to his cock, moving it against him but Blanco's face twitched at that. Pulled his hand back. Touching, seemingly foreign to him. Rico smiled, a small one, murmuring, "it is okay." _

_Blanco took off his shirt, dropping it besides the bed, lay back again. _

_Rico lay on his chest, kissing his neck, careful wet kisses. "You like to be inside?" he whispered. Blanco shook his head. The kid was surprised, but then one can never make assumptions about who likes to be inside of whom. Blanco shook his head, though, "Not you inside of me either."_

"_It is all good, Blanco. I like everything."_

_Rico unbuttoned the jeans, sliding down to pull off the pants and boxers, getting to Blanco's feet and taking the clothes off completely. Rico tossed his own pants away. Looked up at Blanco who watched him, realizing that angry, dangerous, deadly Blanco was shaking, breathing unevenly. He was afraid of love, afraid of gentle touching. Rico's eyes move down that hard marked body. He took a breath at the wounded nakedness. So much color but… the scars. People had hated this man from the day he was born, showed him nothing but hate, and that made him hate the world in turn. The scars told him that._

_He touched every cut, every wound, every scar, his kisses following. Gentle, gentle. The ones on his forearms were the worst and Rico felt tears running down his face. Wiped them away, hoping Blanco did not notice. He then took the hardening flesh in his hands, Blanco gasping and grabbing the kid by the hair, painful at first, then softening as Rico stroked him, his cock stiffening. His body relaxed at that. Easy, easy, Rico seemed to say… Blanco WAS like an animal._

_The kid knew… maybe from hearing Blanco and Gloria, not to use his mouth. So he just massaged him, using saliva to make it slick, easier. He caressed all of him, from his inner thighs and hips, to the soft sack, to the tip of his cock, slowly at first, repeating the motions, getting faster with his stroking, until Blanco writhed in Rico's skilled hands, the need maddening, his cock screaming to be relieved. At that, Blanco grabbed Rico by the arms, getting him in between spread legs, grinding his hips against him. The bed shook with the energy, with the chase._

_Now, Rico understood how Blanco liked it. Just body to body, skin on skin, flesh on flesh. Rico would use Blanco's body to come and so would Blanco. _

_From across the room Gloria could see the two men moving… rolling… making a rhythmic dance. She heard their ragged quiet breaths … seeing that long silver-brown hair in the moonlight, mixed in with Rico's dark. Falling, shifting, changing, they were trees in the wind. _

_At one moment, Blanco was on top of Rico. He lifted his head, tight muscles holding him up, tipping his head back, his lips parted. Lost in pure physical pleasure - raw - open - free. Like an angel, she thought. He moved his hips slowly, thrusting, as Rico used his hand on both of them. She could see that Rico watched this man… seeming to know a kind of privilege in this act. Rico touched him with such… tenderness, carefulness, always caressing, reaching. He seemed to know what HE was being given. _

_Gloria almost cried… they were beautiful in this strange un-know-able way. She watched this violent, angry, dangerous man show profound and soul-deep vulnerability, different from when he'd be with her where the vulnerability was rote, familiar, easy. This… this… was different. She was not sure why. But then it came to her, in that darkness. _

_Blanco had shared with her the abuse he had endured as a child. Men had only caused him violent ceaseless pain his entire life. And yet here he was, allowing… a man… to be gentle with him, to cause him nothing but pleasure. To touch him in a way that had at one time only been a violation of the lowest kind. She also noticed that with Rico, Blanco did not ask for pain the way he asked for it with her. As if… he could not tolerate such a thing, not here… With a man, he could not be in any way reminded of his past. It took her breath away… because she understood this kind of gift._

_Gloria had then laughed to herself… yes, Blanco was the king of manipulation. He knew that to give HIMSELF up to this young man, that he would get true boundless loyalty. Rico would NEVER betray such trust. He would go to any length to bring closure to Blanco's mad pursuit of justice._

_Gloria felt them come at the end, their movements heated, feverish by that time. She heard Blanco whimper at the intensity of it, his soft moan, "god...," Rico grunting at his own release. She herself was so moved by it, she pressed fingers in between her legs, feeling wetness and a sudden orgasm. Blanco grabbed Rico by the hair and kissed him… deeply, passionately… giving, giving… the waves of ejaculation still moving both of them. When they cooled, Blanco rolled away, needing space. Picked up his shirt to clean himself. Rico turned and cried to himself - why, she did not know. _

_When Blanco stepped past her, walking like the sated broken panther he was, he looked right at Gloria, knowing she saw everything. There was no shame, no embarrassment, no great shift in the earth's axis. What had happened simply WAS. She heard him go downstairs. He never returned to either bed that night. _

_The waves on the beach soothed her. She understood more about Blanco now. He was like the ocean. Dangerous… yet beautiful. Gentle, yet deadly. He could drown you as easily as wash your skin. He could love and hate everyone and anyone. _

_He could DO anything he felt he needed to do... good or bad or... unexpected. _

_Every so often, Gloria would see them together in those shadows across the room… moving… like the ocean. "God," she'd hear, "God." Something other than love happens there. Something greater, something less, something more mysterious. _

_Something… something… un-know-able._

**To be continued...**


	42. Chapter 42

**Caged **

**Chapter 42**

Bo Buchanan had traveled a ways to visit Pedro Moreno. Found him at the tail end of yet another funeral of a long-time colleague, Lorenzo Estrada. He was a partner in a jewelry business… at least that was the official story. This made six. Six men who soldiered for Mambo Kings - all older, all originals, all men who helped build Pedro Moreno's reign. The cemetery was draped in white snow, a fine layer that would probably wear off by the afternoon. Bo shuffled through the snow, waited by a tree.

Everyone left, leaving Pedro at the edge of the pit. The cemetery men worked to drop the coffin into its permanent space. He wore a heavy coat, hands deep into the pockets. His lined face drawn, his eyes dark...he gazed at Bo.

"You want something, Commissioner."

"I do."

"Get on with it, then."

"Who's doing this, Moreno?"

"You tell me. That's YOUR job. You are supposed to be arresting those who are murdering my brothers."

"You have lost six. All of them, YOUR supporters. How is your organization now?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. My businesses continue to thrive. But they are not the same - will never be the same without my men."

Bo watched the coffin dangling from the tractor's chains, a breeze pushing the box. The workers spoke Spanish, arguing. Working to adjust the hold to counter the wind.

Pedro grunted, clearing his throat, "This man… he sacrificed much for me. Swam an open sea to come here. Risked everything… and now he's gone."

"Yes, murdered at the ATM right on Main street. A random killing. We have the killer in custody."

Pedro looked at Bo, "You do?"

"We do. He confessed quickly. He is a drug addict. Wanted the money. Caught with the money and the gun. Slam dunk. Closed case. Just like every other one. Except for two… we suspect they might both be be Arrow Street Boyz… Asian gang. Vietnamese. You have dealings with Vietnamese?"

"No."

"Then it's a mystery."

"What do you want?"

"An honest conversation."

"About what?"

"Are you afraid, Mr. Moreno? How many of your original men do you have left? How strong is MK today? How is your leadership faring?"

Pedro didn't answer. The coffin hit the bottom of the pit. One of the men jumped down into it. Removed the chains. He climbed back out.

"All is well, Commissioner. All is well."

"Do you suspect Todd Manning?"

That stopped Pedro in his tracks. He turned. His face a mix of anger, insult, disbelief. "My son would never betray me. He knows that I would kill him. He is headstrong… but he is smart. He enjoys many luxuries because of joining me in business. He does not want to lose all that he is gained."

"Have you spoken to him recently? Seen him?"

"I don't need to. My son… would never betray me."

Bo watched Pedro walk away, his steps slow and plodding. Pedro hadn't talked or seen Manning. Interesting. If it was true. How could Pedro Moreno be so trusting? Todd Manning was not a man to be trusted - everyone knows that. He lies all the time. He is a manipulator. He uses people. He's a drug addict. He's mentally unstable. He's a menace.

But he is loyal.

He will fight to the death for something he believes in. He has his own sense of right and wrong. Moreno must feel that MK is something Manning believes in.

Those killings though. Manning HAD to have a hand in it. It was all just too neat and tidy. Every killing had a quick solve - random loners - they had to have been bought but they were tight-lipped. Each one was more than happy to enter the system. Happy to serve. Bo followed up on them. They were safe and protected inside. No specific gang… people just left them alone. No beatings, no assaults… the four men who'd taken fast plea deals walked Statesville's halls untouched. They were seasoned criminals, sure, but… no MK men sought vengeance. It was strange.

Unusual.

When Bo returned to the office, Henry was there waiting for him. He'd become the head of the gang unit. Bo walked to Henry's office where diagrams were drawn up, lines and arrows… all leading to the two men at the top of MK: Pedro Moreno and Todd Manning. The research had shown that younger, more recent recruits outnumbered older MK men.

Henry tapped the board, "There is NOTHING that connects the killers to Manning. He appears to be busy in Havana, Cuba. We had a guy down there. Spent time watching him. Saw a bit of who he interacts with, where he goes, what he does."

"Okay."

"He leads an odd life, Commissioner."

"Well, that doesn't tell me much. It's Manning. He ALWAYS leads an odd life."

"He lives in a beach house a few miles away from his favorite part of Havana: the unofficial red-light district. Prostitution is illegal, but… it runs pretty much unchecked. He visits bars there that are mostly covers for brothels, he disappears into the neighborhoods. He's good at that. Disappearing. My man spent a week there - disappeared every night. Hard to track. He also fights."

"Fights? Fights whom?"

"He fights for money. My guy down there say it's pretty simple. He's just on his own. Part of some voluntary fighting club. Informal. He lives with a man and a woman. Don't know who they are. We can't get that close. They're both young - guessing they're both in their twenties. Both speak Spanish. Manning does too."

"I know about his becoming native. No MK interactions?"

"None that my guy saw or knows about. Again, it's Cuba. We're real limited in access."

"Damn." He studied the board. "Does he win his fights?"

"Mostly, yeah. They're pretty brutal - my guy says the men he fights… all Cuban, prison pasts. Gang affiliations aren't obvious because we can't get info. Cuba's criminal stats is almost non-existent. They like their crime-free narrative."

"And this Asian gang? What about them? Why did they run down Foca and Guttierez?"

"One witness only. He said the MK guys moved in on Asian territory. Asians took them out for it."

"What business?"

"Gambling."

"No suspects though?"

"No. It was a clean hit - like I said, only one witness and that was only to explain the probable connection."

"So Manning's clean… as far as paper goes."

"Yeah."

"He is never clean. Remember Horenda? I told you he was in on it. I was right. And this stinks to high heaven."

"Yeah, boss. It does. What you're looking at - this board - it's a Manning organization. If Pedro Moreno gets taken out… well… Manning wins. In the end, he is the one who mostly benefits."

Bo marched back to his office. Picked up the phone. Called Benicio Juarez directly. Surprised to get an answer. "Commissioner… what can I do you for?"

"I want an update - where is Manning on this… child porn ring business."

"We're going strong. Not done yet."

"I want to know what you HAVE."

"I can't share that…"

"How close are you to making a bust?"

"Close."

"Who will be busted?"

"We don't know who's on top of it yet. We're hoping it's Pedro Moreno."

"I want to know something…"

"Shoot."

"What happens to MK if Pedro goes down for the child trafficking?"

Silence. Juarez cleared his throat. "Not sure."

"What do you mean, 'not sure?' That's a non-response."

"Commissioner… our hope is that Pedro Moreno will turn state's evidence and the gang will go down. Problem is… there are always people to take over territory. Maybe it won't be called MK anymore… maybe one young soldier will step up and claim the empty spaces. You know how gangs work. It's like the Hydra - kill one head and two grow back."

"Yeah… will Manning be free of MK?"

"Sure. Probably. I just don't know."

"Has he said he wants out?"

"Oh yeah. Absolutely. He's got no choice if he wants his family back and that's high priority for him."

But… see… does he want his family back? Or does he want MK more? Tea Delgado was very pregnant… still working. She seemed functional, but he knew better. She put up a good front. He could see how difficult this all was for her. Wished he could do something for her. Putting her husband in prison, though… well… that wouldn't help her. It had to be done though if… if Manning was behind all these killings.

That night, Bo walked the streets of Llanview. Walked into the Havana restaurant. Watched the dancing as he drank a beer at the bar. Listened. Smiled at the pretty girls. There was a definite tension in the place. Bo asked if Pedro Moreno was around. The bartender shook his head, no. Didn't expect him to return until next week.

"Is he in Cuba?"

The bartender shook his head, "No, he is at his home. With his family. A death of a business partner."

"Of course, yes. Thank you."

Pedro was holed up, in protective mode. Out of the public's eye. Bo finished his beer. The world was shifting. And he didn't like it, not one bit.

* * *

><p>The noise of the house stirred him, one eye opening, the other remaining closed to the bright gray light coming from the French doors. Voices, dishes clanging, one or two barks from Abram. He groaned at the banging headache and the soreness. Every fucking thing hurt. Knew he had had a seizure. The blackout was a big hint. The entire night was fuzzy. Had no idea how he got home, what he did...<p>

Glanced down at himself, partially covered by the blanket, hands on his injured ribs. Black boxer-briefs only. Someone had done him the favor of undressing him. Gloria, most likely. Water was on the night table. He reached for the glass… but when he did, the pain shot through him, through everything.

He curled up and groaned, then breathing deep, trying to meditate his way out of the agony. Huffed, "Jesus… fucking… CHRIST…."

Wait, wait, he had been dreaming, dreaming of a house. He lay still a moment, hardly even breathing. Pulling the dream back like a long rope, dragging it in from the sea, something ugly and heavy at the end because he knew there was truth to it. Truth maybe he needed to know. Yes, dreaming of a house and there, at the front door, was a girl in a little blue dress that reached barely mid-thigh and was tied at the waist. She had no shoes and no socks. It was a print dress that had white flowers with smiling centers spread all over the blue. She had long brown hair, maybe even red hair, and her eyes were full of curiosity. He could see it even from the edge of the walkway, even at the late hour, even on the moonless night. Her face broke into a smile as she reached for Abram, unafraid, open, a moment of pure joy, _a dog, a dog…ahhh… a dog..._

He could see her in the dream. He smiles at her, there, from the walkway. She waves to him… _wait, wait, I want to pet him, can I hug him? Do you want a hug too?_

In the dream he goes back to her, picks her up in arms, and walks away with her… no, no, he's not walking. He's running. The terror is thick, choking. She is small like Lucia. Like… LUCIA. But he knows that it's not Lucia. Of course not. She is home, home safe, home with Delgado and Viki and Heather the nanny and… and so is the girl in blue… she is safe now. She is light in his arms and they are running so hard and so fast away from the house...

He was dreaming. He watched the grey sky out the doors and kept thinking on that dream, that heavy dream. Wished he could stop thinking on it but he couldn't. And a part of him knew he was bordering on disappearing into it because it's too horrible, too real. He felt the black coming and reached through the dreamy haze for the glass of water, fingertips on the wet glass. Runs his fingertips on the edge of the night table. Anything to keep him in the present.

The pain wasn't enough. The black swept in anyway, pulling him out to sea.

In the dream, everything changed. Suddenly he's not running. Instead he sees the girl. She's being raped… except he is the girl now, the blue dress is up around his chest and his legs are spread impossibly wide…. _a men is moving over me, his face moving back and forth, back and forth, a face full of wet sweat and red skin and saliva dripping on me and it hurts really bad, really bad… it's too big… my stomach hurts… and I can't breathe, I cannot breathe...I CANNOT BREATHE…._

And then in the dream, he's just himself. He's just fourteen-year-old himself. Face down… and he cannot breathe for Peter's hold of him around his neck… and the pain, the pain is so big, so deep, so lasting. It feels like it's in his belly...

_He… cannot… breathe._

Todd shot up, threw off the covers, slammed a hand to his mouth. The pain of the sudden nausea pulled him out of the worst kind of disassociation - not the restful kind where he simply floats because everything is too much, but the kind where he is lost in a memory. He stumbled, weakness really, but fought his way to the bathroom where he barely made the toilet. Vomited hard. After the first wave, he just held the rim, head down, spitting the awful taste out of his mouth. On his knees, sitting. Tears rolled down his face, forced out. He wasn't done yet, so he just stayed there.

Behind him, the door shut. He felt a gentle pulling of his long hair back, getting it into a tie, and instinctively knew it was Rico, not Gloria. He could _feel _the difference between them.

Another wave hit him and he retched, muscles straining and pulling, everything hurting. Nothing but bile shot out, there being nothing in his stomach, really.

"Shit, shit, shit…," he moaned. Sat back against the wall next to the toilet. One thing he knew NOW: the girl was real. She was real. He had seen her at that house. And most likely, she was long gone.

_Elon… Elon_… he had had her. In that house.

Rico's calm voice said in Spanish, _"That asshole really messed you up." _He wet a washcloth at the sink.

Todd turned a little to look at him, to see what he was doing because sudden paranoia was tearing through him. Feeling like he was gonna get hit or something. Yeah, yeah, Rico, wearing black jeans, his favorite purple hoodie and a black tee. Blackmarket Converse sneakers at the bottom. Catholic charm around his neck. He squatted, washcloth in hand. Dark eyes. Dark wavy hair that he wore kinda long because men liked it that way.

Sniffling wetly, Todd explained, "_Salvador did not make me sick. I am sick because of dreams."_

A certain awareness came over Rico and he just sighed. He reached forward, delicately pressing the cold wet cloth on Todd's face, pressing it against his cheeks, gently wiping his mouth and beard. Said, _"They are only dreams. They are not real." _

"_They're real. They happened."_

Rico nodded, understanding, his English tinted with his Spanish accent, "You are talking about a memory. Yes. Those are bad. But you are ALIVE. You wake up and you are alive. Memories, dreams, pictures in your head. They are not real - you cannot touch them. They are not happening NOW." He smiled, just a little, his soulful brown eyes full of sadness, a sadness that never seemed to go away. It was the one thing that proved to Todd Rico's truth. Where he came from. How Rico became Rico.

He folded the wet towel and wiped Todd's neck, his chest, pressing that coolness against soreness. "_I don't dream like you do, my lion,_" he said, "_My memories… make me want to see men beg me to love them. I get them to buy me things. I tease them. I make them cry with my hands, with what I don't give them." _ He whispered, "_They cry wanting my cock."_

Todd swallowed, eyes on Rico's mouth as he spoke. He then looked upwards at those lines in the ceiling, thinking he sounded like Brandy. Rico was healthier though. No wish for pain the way she did, no interest in getting abused. Not a drug user, didn't dream. Todd felt weak and stupid for suffering still when Rico had had it so much worse. Only place he saw it… those sad eyes. Todd could see it… there…

"You're not too bad off," he said quietly. "Considering everything."

Rico chuckled, sat back a moment. "_Blanco_, you are joking. I am a whore. I have been one since I was six." His voice dropped, his gaze...inward, looking far away. In Spanish, he said, "_That cannot be good, right? I don't dream but I keep doing this...like I cannot escape being six and getting raped. Maybe I don't dream because I'm still trying to survive. Only when it stops do people dream about it. Like you."_

So, Rico liked money, liked having power over johns. This was something they shared, a love of _stolen_ power. They both had a need to control bad people. Which was why Rico liked the idea that he was a part of a major sting - taking down Caro? Brilliant. Rico's introduction to Todd had been an aberration. He'd been shocked by the violence, had lost control of the entire night. He had found a john that he could not control.

_Blanco_ was not controllable.

Rico got up and turned the water on in the tub. Felt the water until it became hot. He held a hand out and Todd took it. Got up.

"Get in, _mi león. Wash away the night. The dreams."_

Todd stripped and stood in front of Rico, holding his gaze. He reached out and held Rico by the hair, not tightly. Pulled him close, eyes searching. Their bodies touched, instantly creating heat. Quiet, quiet...

"_Qué quieres, Blanco?" _Rico touched Todd's arm, moving to the hand holding him. His face questioning, wanting to do whatever his friend wanted. _"Qué necesitas__?"_

"I don't know," he whispered, "You… _confuse_ me."

Rico pushed in, pressed his mouth against Todd's, getting kissed right back, Todd pressing back hard, the hair getting pulled a little tighter… an arm around Rico's neck, but then he found it hard to take… finding it too easy. _Confusing_. He'd felt it in his balls… a tightening and it scared him. Funny... he had understood his trysts in prison. This… was something different, something else. THIS he did not understand. He shook Rico away. Let him go.

"Go away, go away, go away…," he said raggedly. Got into the water. Plopped down into the tub, trying to will away the partial erection plaguing him. Cursing it. Not understanding it. Focused on the water falling from the faucet.

"I won't leave you like this," Rico said as he took off his hoodie, his t-shirt. "I promise...I won't do anything."

Todd relented, let Rico do everything. Wash his hair, soap his bruised body. He gave into the gentle touches. Sinking back against the tub, finally, letting the heat soothe his brokenness. He watched Rico, seeing how careful he was to not get sexual.

_Respeto, consideración._

"I lost my mind when I remembered what my father had done to me. Why aren't you crazy, _mari_? Even more if you still think you're… in it."

Rico huffed as he reached down Todd's legs with the washcloth, saying, "Every day I live, I prove to my rapists they were wrong. They said I would die. They tried to make me weak. They tried to kill me. I had nothing to fight them with except my decision to not die. Even when _you_ beat me, I said, I will not die."

Todd grabbed Rico's hand that was on his thigh, catching his gaze. "I'm sorry for that."

"I know. It's why I fuck you the way I do, to make you feel guilty for the beating." He smiled, though. Todd didn't. Unable to hear any humor in it. It was probably true. The few times Rico had pulled him into his bed, Rico had been achingly kind. Achingly gentle. Touched him like Todd would break.

Rico pulled his hand back, elbows on the tub's side.

"You think you're crazy, _Blanco?"_

Todd whispered, "Yes."

"I don't think so. You are rightfully angry. Anger, hate, looks like madness."

"I am _wrong_fully _impotent_." He paused. "There was a girl last night at Elon's place. I saw her. I couldn't get to her, couldn't do anything because of that fucking seizure." He found himself deadened. There was nothing to do. She was long gone, maybe not even alive anymore. Many hours since he had seen her. At least twelve. More than that.

"I am sorry," Rico murmured, beginning again to just run the cloth over Todd's skin in an effort to soothe him but soothing wasn't possible. He had screwed up. He got that goddamn seizure and he let a girl maybe die… maybe wish she was dead. What the fuck was he doing? What was the point of all this if he couldn't help these children? He grunted softly every time Rico ran the cloth over his ribs, they hurt so much. He finally stopped him.

"No more," he breathed, slipping a little further into the hot water, knees up on the porcelain sides. He closed his eyes, trying to piece the night together. Dipped down like a crocodile, eyes and nose above water. Knees up, feet pressed at the end of the tub. Fucking seizure did this sometimes. Almost a total blackout. Remembered leaving the beach house, remembered getting into an argument with Gloria. She'd objected to his fighting Salvador. She was upset, strangely vocal. She never said anything before. He got tired of it, had no patience for it, said… _it's my fuckin' life, and you... you are not my wife._

She had gotten right up to Todd, her dark eyes cold, her jaw tight… he thought she would object to the wife comment but, no… she said, _what life, Blanco? What life do you HAVE?_

No fucking idea.

Dipped all the way under. Opened his eyes, seeing watery wavy Rico. The fight came along then, that bloody fight. And there in the crowd was blue… blue…_blue. _Suddenly the rest of the night fell into place, smashed into place. He shot up out of the water, gasping for air. Rico was back against the wall, having tried to duck the splash of water. He wasn't successful.

Blue BEANIE.

Flashed to Rico, his features hard, set. Said, "My son. Is he here?"

Rico did not miss that expression, _Blanco_'s mood shifting...to something much less...quiet. "Yes, yes… downstairs. I told them to leave you alone until you are-"

"Them?"

"Jedediah and Ken McNair. Yes-"

He grunted only this time it wasn't pain, but anger. They should not be here. His SON should not be here.

"Calm down, _Blanco._ They are here to help."

But Todd just couldn't agree. His mouth was pressed hard into a slash of spitting intolerance. His breathing sped up and… no… no… He grabbed the sides of the tub and got to his feet, Rico getting up fast.

"_Blanco… get under control… he is your son…"_

"_He should not be here. He should be at home. SAFE!"_

Todd stepped out of the tub and grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist and yanked the door open. Wet as a fish, ropy dripping hair well past his shoulders. Rico sprinted after him, calling him back, trying to pull him back but this horse was out of the stable. Todd hit the stairs. Hit the bottom floor and flew into the living room.

He stood at the entrance and glared at Jed who took one look at his father in all his fucked-up, soaking-wet glory, and grinned a bitter-tasting grin. Yeah, Pops was going to try his old trick of throwing a tantrum…

Jedediah barely had time to get to his feet when, to the sound of protest, Todd grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him up out of the chair, that blue beanie falling to the ground. Jerked him up, yelling in his face, "I TOLD YOU TO GO HOME! I TOLD YOU! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! GO...HOME!"

Except… see… it had been a while since Todd had tried this shit with Jedediah, since that time with Rolon, and he just plain forgot that Jed didn't EVER anymore take to it, so… before Todd could gauge or anticipate any kind of… well… _response_, while in his father's choking grip, Jedediah reached back and slam-punched Todd in those deeply bruised ribs.

Todd dropped Jed, gasping in horrific pain… putting a hand out to stop the hits but then Jed shoved an open hand on Todd's throat, lifting HIM up and bashing him against the wall, brandishing a blade in his other hand. A leftie _and _a rightie. Todd was now flat up against the plastered ungiving wall, a knife at his carotid, and the towel… well… left somewhere between the wall and the chair.

The two men were panting hard, Jedediah growling, "You try anymore of that bullshit… and I will fuckin' GUT you."

Not a sound came from anyone in the room, stunned into silence. There was no doubt - Jedediah Chant… was _Blanco's _son. And this...this confrontation could not be intruded upon.

Todd glanced down and realized that Jed had him up on the wall so that his feet weren't completely on the floor. One slip and that knife would slit his throat. He glimpsed the blade then the hazel eyes of Jed and said in a deep, unwavering voice, "You don't have the taste for it. You don't have the balls."

Jed shook his head, disgusted, "Fuck you - you're the one with no balls. If you had any, you'd go home and face your WIFE." He let go and Todd hit the floor, hunched over, arms around his ribcage, bested by his own kid. Jed bent and grabbed the towel, grumbling as he handed it to Todd, "Still a goddamn asshole. Just like when I first met you."

Todd huffed, re-wrapping the towel, still bent slightly at the pain. "Can everyone just LEAVE?! I need to talk to my SON. Alone." He focused on Gloria with pained eyes and she nodded, the distress of the moment hitting her deep.

"Ken, Rico…_vamanos… " _Everything else was in Spanish._ "And for the love of GOD, where is your shirt? HIS SON saw you. My god..."_

"_I had to! I helped him with the bath!"_

"_Shut up, cabrón! Helped him with the bath! Is that the new word for it? I told you to keep it on the down low. Why don't you just wear a sign that says 'Blanco is my boyfriend!' Get your ass out!"_

* * *

><p>They left quickly. Abram, Gloria and Rico on a walk, Ken out doing reconnaissance work. When the house got quiet, Jedediah was a restrained ball of detestation, glaring at his father from the sofa by the front window. Saw too much of him, the black and blue damage from that fight, his injured eye, his thinner build, the sheer loss of… what? He was hard-bodied still, colored still, scarred… more so. He was still hunched, an arm across his belly, gazing back at Jed from a chair across the room. The distance felt...immense. The towel covered his crotch, but didn't hide HIM.<p>

"You have to go home," he growled.

"I'm not gonna do that. I'm not leaving you until we get this job done. And speaking of that shit, I hear you stopped taking your seizure meds. The fuck is that about? And last night? I watched that stupid-ass fight you were in. Another what-the-FUCK? What are you doing, Pops? Trying to DIE by epilepsy or getting your ass kicked? Throwing yourself on some burning pyre of shit for the sake of children so you can go down a goddamn martyr? That it? That your plan? And don't get me started on you disassociating - Gloria told me. You're tuning out, just fading out. She says she can't get you to wake up sometimes. You were in the hospital for that shit, Pops. Means… maybe… you should be in a psych ward. Like now."

When Todd looked back at Jedediah, Jed knew what was different. He looked old. He looked old and worn and beaten down. His father looked like he would have a very short life. There were more lines on his face, more gray in his beard and hair, dark circles under his eyes. He was only 40 years old but he looked 50. He looked… like he was dying.

"I get it," Jed said to Todd's silence. "You feelin' hella sorry for yourself 'cause Tea shot you. Well… get over it."

Todd closed his eyes at hearing her name spoken aloud, like it gave her life. Like it could put her right in front of him. Exhaustion tore through him, that _crazy_ swirling in his head. He rubbed his face, a hand on the towel. His felt Rico's kiss on his lips, Gloria's taste on his tongue. Felt the dream… the dream… running, running… running like fucking HELL away from that house with that baby in his arms.

_What life, Blanco?_

He got up and stepped over to an empty corner of the room and slid to the floor. Pressed against that corner. Safe. Knees up. Towel hardly covering anything. Didn't care. Needed to feel something… something. He used to do this in the hospital, way back when. Pressed his head back against the cool painted wall. Yeah, yeah, maybe he needed a fucking psych ward.

"She wanted me dead," he said softly. "I feel dead. I'm not trying to kill myself. I am just trying to match my outside to my inside."

"Yeah, you've completely lost your mind." He shook his head. Added, "But let's be accurate. She wanted _Blanco _dead, not Todd Manning."

"Kinda academic, yeah? Kinda fuckin' fantasy, yeah? I am the only one in this god damn body. One person." He bent forward, his head in his hands.

"She shot a really bad dude who'd come into her house, Pops. A hopelessly drug-addicted MK gang member who'd just gotten done killing seven men right in front of her."

Details, details. _Blanco _lifted cool eyes to Jed.

Jed then said quietly, "I watched that whole thing go down. On RJ's surveillance tape. Didn't tell anyone what me and RJ saw, that you actually kinda smiled at the camera, threw the MK signs... You were livin' large that night."

"Didn't say I didn't deserve to be shot."

"She still loves you. She'll love you always, I know this."

"Don't. Please don't. I can't hear that. I...I...I cannot hold that..." Shook his head, those words too close, too far...a pain inside of him that couldn't be eased. Those bullet pathways… fucking alive...

"You got no say in it. She does love you. Your kids do, too. I need to know you understand that."

Now he got mad. "And what the _fuck_ am I supposed to do?! I am still in MK and that shit isn't going away... and Tea cannot-" He cut himself off. He ached, physically ached, at saying her name. Pain shot through his chest, and he bent over at it. He shook his head. Silent again.

Jed got real suspicious now, knocked his head back at big words. "What do you mean, 'MK isn't going away?' Isn't that what you're doing? Getting Pedro on child porn so he'll turn state's evidence against MK? So you'll be free?"

Todd just glared ugly at Jed.

Jed then murmured, "Oh shit. That's not true is it? That's not your plan. George and that Juarez guy were wrong." Tea had been right. While his ranting letter had a lot of code, he was still insane, the hate and madness real. Moms had said that. Argued that.

Cool eyes did not move off Jed, eyes now willing to show deep simmering _hate_. The change was mesmerizing. Jed needed to sit up taller at seeing it, needed to be more on the defense, because that hate ran loud and it was ice cold. While Jed knew his father would never kill him, to be in the presence of this man… well, you stayed cautious no matter what.

When Todd got to his feet, it was more of an uncoiling. Like a snake might uncoil, if a snake could stand. That towel didn't hide the new ink that Jed hadn't noticed last night, that he hadn't seen today, new ink that was a deafening unabashed proclamation of belonging.

MK color. Plain. Unhidden.

Along his belly were black-inked words, "_**Los Reyes Del Mambo.**_" He'd fucking committed. Todd moved past him, moved to the base of the stairs, and Jed looked at his back…seeing words running beneath the black angel and the Grim Reaper...

"_**La Habana ╳ Cuba.**_**"**

The fights... those weren't fight club fights… they weren't for money or entertainment or self-abuse. He was proving himself unkillable. Be King in Cuba… be _King_.

"Pops? Dad? _Blanco?_"

Todd turned to look at his son, his beautiful boy with the long golden-brown hair under that blue beanie. Less skinny now in his grungy clothes, real power in those muscles now, real skill in his self-defense. He was fast, smart… God, how he was a blend of love and bullheaded resistance. Said in his ragged tired voice, "_Qué quieres de mí? Tu papá ángel para volver? Quieres que la bondad, la integridad. Si?"_

Jed didn't understand it all. Knew some words. _Quieres. _You want. _Papá ángel_. His angel daddy… what Jed's mother used to call Todd when she knew him, when he was just a kid, when he loved Michelle Chant. Jed worked hard to keep his emotion in check but unshed tears burned, "I want my father back."

"You want Todd Manning back. He's dead, Jedediah. Been dead a long long time. I don't even know how long."

"This thing you got going on here, this Cuban bullshit, it's just your way of staying King, staying right up under Moreno. Until he's done. You're not trying to end MK, you're trying to end MORENO. And you...you can then take over. _El Rey de Los Reyes._ King of Kings."

"Knowing things can be dangerous," _Blanco _said.

"Am I right? You got no intention of getting out of MK? ANSWER ME!"

_Blanco _studied his son, looked at that forever-innocent face, Michelle's genetic input softening Manning hard-edges. Hate… hate… Jedediah had no hate inside of him. Even now when he should hate his father… _Blanco_ only felt love coming his way. He closed his eyes a moment, feeling it… hearing it…

"No, Jedediah, I got no intention of getting out, no. _Mi intención_… my intention is to kill Pedro Moreno by taking away that which he loves most. The Mambo Kings. He will be gutted, he will rot in prison… branded a child rapist… while I reign." _Blanco_ chuckled darkly, then grit his teeth, his mouth tight, his voice rough. "He will hear of me, he will FEEL me, he will watch me take EVERYTHING… he will WISH he was dead."

"He'll just commit suicide…"

"No, he won't. He'll be in solitary… nobody will let him die. I will make _fucking_ sure of it." _Blanco _paused. "_Todavía quiere ayudar a tu__papá ángel__?_ Still wanna… END THIS?"

Jed couldn't answer, so choked up. He studied his father again. His English had changed… almost an accent in it. So used to speaking Spanish. He forgets, that's that Juarez said. It was true. He looked at that person by the stairs in this beach house in the middle of FUCKING Cuba. When Jed found his voice, it was weighed down with the worst truth yet, realization hitting him hard like a punch to the gut.

"It's you," Jed said. "You're the one behind the killings at home. _Pedro Moreno loyalists_, that's what Bo Buchanan calls them. They're dying. Everyone is wondering… who is it? Which gang is it? Except there's no pattern. Could be tribal, could be the Irish, could be the Posse, could be… so many. They caught some guys… but they're loners. They confessed nothing other than those few killings. They had no connection to anyone, to anything. Motives were simple - robbery, a carjacking, a home invasion."

_Blanco_ felt intensely sad for his child, his beloved boy who flew a plane over Statesville just to let him know he was thinking of him, who did everything he could to help at incredible risk, who loved his father far beyond what any father deserved. Oh god, how he wished he could soothe his boy. Ease his hurt. Heal his devastation. But he knew different.

Jed did not understand the imperative nature of this plan. He did not know that the war _Blanco _was engaging in was one of mad revenge, bloody fucking revenge…_la ultima venganza, _for Todd Manning, Diego Loriz, Brandy and her brother, Letica… for every child who didn't survive, and for all those who barely survived. Rico, Gloria, all his kids in Statesville. Those kids at the In-Between institution. The kids right now in this hell. Jed did not know that the moment _Blanco _learned that Pedro… PEDRO… Spanish for PETER… that… that… he was deeply connected to this child ring… that… that… that _Blanco_ knew what had to be done. That it WOULD be done.

He would be KING.

No, Jed couldn't understand because he was an innocent. Still believed that law works, that the world rewards... goodness… _la bondad. _

Jed's voice dropped to barely above a whisper, a horrific… disappointed… broken… sound. "Bo says you're not connected, George says you're not connected. But that's all a lie. Because it's you. You are the one behind these killings."

"That's up for legal argument. I'm just the information guy," _Blanco_ said. "People need to know things… I tell them what they need to know. They do things for themselves that happen to benefit me. I… don't kill… well, hardly ever. Self-defense isn't a crime." Tilted his head, admired his son for a few long moments.

Then said, "Still want me home, Jedediah Chant? Still want your Angel Daddy… _home_?"

Jed stood up, sniffed. Eyed his father and tamped down the pain. "I gotta go," he said. "Gotta go."

The door slammed shut and _Blanco_ sat down on the steps, lay back on them, the hardness digging into his back. The hardness… feeling much like a knife, dug in deep, dug in through to his heart.

* * *

><p>When Gloria and Rico returned to the house, they noticed how quiet it was, how... empty it felt. Evening was already here and no lights had been turned on. Abram pulled on the leash, anxious. He sniffed and whined.<p>

They were all anxious.

Gloria stepped into the darkened living room and instantly smelled cigarettes. She flipped on a lamp and there on the sofa lounged _Blanco. _Like a mother hen she put a hand out to stop Rico from getting close to him because she could see he was in a dangerous state of mind. She turned and said in a rushed whisper, "_Leave, go out, my brother. He is not himself."_

"Why do you say that, _La Gloria?_ I am very much… _myself_._" _He had heard her. Rico didn't like what he saw either, the feel of _Blanco's _fist suddenly real, suddenly remembered.

_Blanco _had on his usual jeans, an open black shirt, no shoes. His long legs spread across the rough-fabric sofa. One foot was buried under a cushion, the other on the floor. His hair was loose, falling messily and partly covering his face. There was an unexpressed energy in his seeming relaxed pose. He breathed the smoke out.

"Stupid, I know," he purred.

Rico eyed Gloria, his face a mix of caution, worry, anger… Gloria hissed, "Go upstairs! I will talk with him."

Rico bit down, spat under his breath, "No!"

"Oh _Rico_," Todd mocked, "please please walk away..."

"Go!" Gloria commanded.

He pulled the leash and went upstairs, grunting with obvious and complete reluctance.

Gloria now stood still Said, "What's the matter? What can I do?" Watched _Blanco _get to his feet. He put the cigarette out on a plate on the side table. He walked towards her and she put a hand up, saying softly, "_You promised not to hurt me."_

_"I'm not going to hurt you. Why would I do that?"_

_"You promised."_

He stood right in front of her... Looking at the fear in her eyes and he couldn't help that he got hard at it. He hated that, but he just couldn't help it. He had felt powerless these last hours. In his mad quest for unchecked _power_, _revenge, _he had lost control, lost power. And seeing her this way... God, god, they are all so powerless. Unable to control life's ins and outs.

His son left like he was supposed to, yeah, but he found that it wasn't quite what he wanted. He lost control of his _feelings._ And then maybe, maybe, a child died last night...that girl... because he could not control his brain's circuitry. Then Rico had kissed him and _Blanco _lost control there, too, his body wanting something he didn't understand.

So he wanted clarity. He wanted something he COULD understand. Seeing her so scared of what was coming, got him hard. He was in control again. THIS he knew. He put his head on her shoulder, feeling her trembling. She did not trust him. She was afraid of him. She huffed in his ear, her breath hot, smelling of warmth, sea salt, fear. He reached down and clutched his cock. He needed her. He needed THIS.

"Yeah, yeah," he whispered in her ear. "Be afraid..."

Quickly, quick as light, he turned her around, getting an arm around her throat, hearing her yelp from the shock. He got a hand on her breast, kneading it. He opened her blouse, pushing the bra up to her neck so he could feel her skin. He opened his mouth on the tender skin of her neck, kiss-biting. He pushed her into the kitchen with his body, "_Walk, walk, sister...Gloria preciosa, Gloria bonita..." _

The table had plates and mugs and leftover food and it all jumped when he pushed her down on it, chest first. She cried out at the violence of it but didn't tell him to stop. He yanked down her pants and underclothes and jerked his own down, pressing himself against her ass, rubbing himself on her soft skin, pressing slightly into the fleshy cleft. Hands held her in place to increase the friction.

"I need you," he groaned, rocking against her.

"I know, baby, I know. Gentle, gentle...you promised..."

She had to grab the edges of the table as he shoved himself inside of her, the dishes jumping, clanging at his thrust. She was dry and it took several thrusts to even start getting easy. When he was fully inside, he lay heavily on her back, her turn to feel his hot smoky breath in her ear. She bit down, defending, bracing every time he pushed inside of her. He was not being gentle. He was breaking his promise.

She reached up and grabbed his hair, huffed, "it's okay, it's okay..."

Her heart hurt, and tears rolled down her face because they all were so alone, so lonely, so unloved by this world. She looked towards the other entrance to the kitchen and saw Rico watching them. He was so angry… standing there… She shook her head, afraid, trying to get him to go away, but instead had to hold that table... Her nails and fist dug into the wood, as _Blanco_ started fucking her harder, less carefully.

"Oh god," she grunted, sound forced out of her. Plates fell onto the floor, crashing, breaking into unfixable pieces. She could tell he was going to come because his breathing got rough and his movements focused and he held her still for the necessary resistance and hoped like hell he wasn't interested in extending the pleasure of it. Rico moved to them, though, openly, unafraid. She heard him, felt his heat, and he was right on _Blanco,_ saying, "_Easy, easy...easy with our sister_..."

The tension lessened, _Blanco _panting, slowing his finish, his attention drawn now, his mouth busy now. He moved slower, but then pushed into her one more time, roughly, deeper, a dish crashing to the floor.

"_Don't be afraid," _Rico breathed, the kissing wet and hard and assuring. She felt _Blanco's _cock withdraw and knew Rico was touching him, heard the wet strokes and _Blanco's _strained vocal agony. Heard, "_No, no, no…"_

Then he was inside her again. Slow thrusts.

Gloria felt a hand on her hip, moving to her core. _Blanco _drove into her again and she knew it was Rico who had slid downwards and touched her, who touched her spread flesh, who knew exactly where it would feel best and she started to cry because obviously he had learned that... a woman who might have abused him, too.

_My god, my god_, she cried, the thoughts fading at his caresses. With every push of _Blanco's_ cock, Rico moved his fingers, delicate strokes and circles. Gloria breathed hard and widened her legs not from pain but from the pleasure. Rico touched both of them, slick juices everywhere, the sensations intense and mind-numbing. Gloria's nipples came alive too, the table's hardness no longer cruel but cool and silky. She lifted up as much as possible to rub them against the wood.

_Blanco _had one hand on Gloria's neck and his other hand in Rico's hair, locks in his fist, as he ground his hips against Gloria but he could not last like that, too many sensations, too much. He started to come, his breath caught, choked. Rico, too, who'd been busy touching himself, his hand moving noisily on his flesh, jerked hard against the table, grunting at his own pleasure. Then Gloria cried out with the intense orgasm from both men at her. The table was rough on her cheek, and _Blanco_ was rough in falling on her. The table was cruel again.

A dish fell at that last move, at that last bit of insanity.

"What the fuck...," _Blanco _huffed, pulling out, squeezing his penis at the lasting come. He looked down at Rico who sat on the floor, his jeans down... looking like a cat who'd gotten into the milk. Unapologetic.

_Blanco _bent over Gloria, and said, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Kissing her ear, her cheek, her neck. "I'm sorry..."

She turned and kissed his mouth, his lips, touching his hair, feeling sweat on his body, smelling his musky scent mixed with hers. Kissing, kissing, kissing. Soothing him like she was used to doing with all the men who sometimes got beyond their limits.

Rico got up, jeans hanging low, his ass showing, and walked out of the kitchen. Head up. Giving off a definite simmering hate of his own.

"This is some fucked-up shit," _Blanco _whispered, an obvious anguish in it. He let Gloria up, pulling his jeans up. He plopped down on the floor, against the wall. She got down to him, curled up against him, arms around him.

"That isn't happening again," he said, "… I do fucked-up sex, one person at a time. I can't… I can't-"

Her face a delicate mess of woundedness, damage, she put a finger to his lips and asked, "We are all okay, yeah?" _Blanco _wiped her cheeks with his hand, surprisingly careful. "Nobody is okay. Nobody is ever okay. I am so fucking sorry..."

She tightened her hold of him, whispering thickly, "You will be King. It will be okay, then."

As they sat in that dark house, the ocean's waves unstoppable, never letting up, Todd remembered how confused Diego Loriz was at the end of his life. He would sit on the bleachers, watching basketball. The rules were lost on him. The people were lost on him. The up and down of the light made no sense to him.

_"What are we doing here?" _

_"Living another day."_

_"I am breathing, yeah?"_

_"Yeah, Diego. Yeah."_

_"I'm having a dream I think,"_

_"How can you, you're awake."_

_"I can see the sun even with my eyes closed and that's not...real. I am dreaming."_

_"Yeah, that's true. A dream then. All this… just a dream."_

_"What are we doing...here."_

Over and over he'd ask that same question. Todd never could answer him. He just didn't know what it was that Diego wanted to hear. He kinda felt like Diego. Life... _confused_ him and nobody seemed able to UNconfuse him.

What was he doing... _here_.

.

**To be continued...**


	43. Chapter 43

**Caged**

**Chapter 43**

Jedediah toured Havana in an old bus, half listening to the guide. Feet up on the next seat, leather jacket on, red beanie. He was hungry. Pulled out a Coke from his bike bag. Popped the cap. Drank it, watching the city go by. The little old ladies behind him talked about the Cuban people and how friendly they were. The good things of communism. Sounded like poli-sci academics. He had professors at Llanview U who called themselves socialists. He didn't give a shit. Wanted to say something to them… you know, Raul Castro being a dictator and all. Drank the Coke. Cuba was a weird place - a lot of capitalism happening. Money going to the government but damn, Cuban people liked their private businesses. LOTS of under-the-covers money being passed. Dressed up 1950's cars whip by. Nice. Totally Rolon's style.

Rolon of the Mambo Kings. Jed still stung from his confrontation with his father, since learning of his mad plan to take over the world. Lex Luthor rather than Superman. Ok, just MK but what-the-fuck-ever. Still crazy as hell. Leaned back. Tour guide droning on.

Those killings… Jesus. How did he even make them happen? Just the information man, yeah, yeah.

The chilly winter meant the tour bus was near-empty. Mostly old folks. Havana was a beautiful old city. Definitely had a European flair. Like...based on pictures he'd seen of Europe. He had thought about a semester abroad at one point but really never felt like he could leave. He was flying already in college. Working for RJ. Watching over Lucia, Tea, and keeping up with his dad. Never could leave.

He flew internationally, yeah, but mostly Mexico. Canada once. Definitely saw a lot of the good old U.S. of A. New Orleans was his favorite… had a girl there. Damn. Since Rose came along, he had NOT gotten anything. No dating, no getting laid. Smiled though, thinking of his Rose. She was smart, funny… goofy girl who figured out cell phone games and the iPad. Just about to turn four. She was growing to love Jed. Beginning to see him as her father. Called him _Poppa_. Todd would love her. She had the quick Manning mind. She'd have him around her finger. Like Lucia. But they still hadn't even met yet. At least not met as family.

_Pops… it's you, isn't it? You're the one behind the killings at home._

Jed closed his eyes, briefly. Feeling the sandpaper rub of awareness. Maybe there was something to what Ken was saying about needing to separate. Tea called it codependency. Whatever. Yeah, maybe. He had self-analyzed it forever. Had a girlfriend tell him it was because he grew up without a "real" father so he was a little obsessed with having one… and hahaha on you, God gave you a lunatic. He wasn't a very good father, not really. Self-obsessed. A full-fledged felony-case-catching gangbanger. And no fucking boundaries. Jesus. He doubted ANY kid had seen his dad naked more times than Jed had. Seriously. Don't even MENTION too much exposure to his sex life. He knew it had something to do with the abuse, remembered Doc Graham telling him that. Except Todd was careful with the kids. He was like… overkill on BOUNDARIES with the little ones. Didn't even like them seeing him without a shirt on. Maybe he never saw Jed as a kid of his. He didn't know. They hadn't really met until Jed was already sixteen. Riding a bike. On his own.

Yeah, yeah, Pops truly had no sense. He could still hear him and Brandy going at it, goddamn… It was the drugs back then. Dude was so fucked up he didn't know what he was doing, didn't think about his own son not-sleeping like mere feet away in those crappy rooms. That time period set Jed up for an overly entrenched relationship. So tight they'd become that Jed was probably equally as guilty as his dad in… well… knocking off bad dudes that _Blanco_ needed handled.

Information. Jed had gotten real good at getting his dad information.

What was fucking up his dad up now? Getting shot by Tea. MK. Chasing after pedophiles. Yeah, major fuckage. Jed sighed, watching out the window, the tour guide now talking in Spanish. Like seriously, dude. English only. Damn it. He'd paid for English.

Mind wandered to… _Rico_. He never said anything 'cause like there was already a lot to talk about… but… why was Rico all wet? No shirt? He'd obviously been in the shower with Todd. Or something. What was that about? No idea and he didn't even want to think about it but still kinda had a feeling on it. There was this one time he'd caught Smithy Jackson… kinda.. nothing real specific, just noticed a weird closeness there. Coulda been nothing. Jackson had been at Statesville, they shared stuff. Further back, he kinda knew about something that happened when his dad was using heroin, before Statesville. Shit he'd said. Shit Brandy had said. Things he'd promptly blocked.

_Boundaries._

STOP. Look at that car. Holy crap. What a beauty. See? Now where would a Cuban dude limited on income get the money to fix that shit up? Communism. Right.

Copendency. Stop thinking about Pops' problems. You got enough of your own. He looked at the tour guide… "Hey, hey… English, man, yeah? You want a bad review on Yelp? Fuckin' English."

An old man glared at him. Someone else snort-laughed.

Whatever. He had called Tea as soon as he got to the hotel room. Told her he'd seen him. Said he's worse off than anything we thought. That she was right… that he was crazy as all hell. He burst into tears like a little bitch. For five minutes he couldn't even talk. Tea started to cry, too. It was a mess. They were a mess.

_Come home, mijo. Come be with Rose. She will get more out of seeing you than your father will get. He's lost… let him find his own way home. Oh Jed… let him find his own way._

_Moms… I don't know that there is even a way home for him. _

The tour ended. He got off the bus. Headed to the hotel where he and Ken were staying. He had his own room. Climbed a couple of flights of stairs. Knocked on Ken's door. When he opened it up, the place looked like command central. Multiple computers running. Ken did all kinds of shit to get around Cuban restrictions on the internet. Pretty cool, really. Out of Jed's league, that was for sure.

Jed whistled. "Wow. You kinda of like… threw up in here, like puking circuit boards."

Ken chuckled. He was cool. Had a funky style. Funky leather shoes, those small round-frame glasses, skinny jeans always, weird colorful striped shirts and sweaters. Total hipster. Curly blond hair like Doc Graham's. Hard to believe he was over 30. Like really, looked younger than Jed.

Jed plopped on a bed. The room was huge, lot of empty space, two beds, a desk, a tall dresser in the corner. Bathroom down the hall, though. Only drawback. Super high ceilings, big windows with a ledge to sit on. Nice. Jed's room was like a tomb in comparison.

"How you feeling, buddy? How was the tour?" He sat at the desk chair, swiveling. Of course, looks are deceiving. Ken acted forty years older than Jed.

Shrugging, Jed said, "Okay, considering half was in Spanish. I kinda got pissed but like, what are you gonna do. They're Cuban."

Ken laughed. "That they are." Whispered, "Because we're in Cuba."

He hadn't told Ken any details about Todd and their little chat yesterday. He had hardly even seen Ken other than at breakfast this a.m. - he'd headed straight to his room. All he said was he needed space from his dad, that shit was worse than he thought. That maybe he didn't wanna help anymore. That maybe _Blanco_ ought to fucking stay in Cuba. Ought to fucking ROT here. Maybe some _Cubano_ fighter would put him out of his fucking misery. Like kill him.

Not subtle or anything.

Dude had sympathy. Just listened. No judgement. He was cool about it. Patient. Asked Jed if he needed a ticket home. Said no, he wanted to see the sites. Lots of churches to visit, doncha know.

"So yeah," Jed mused, "this is cool."

Ken walked him through the information they'd acquired from Todd over the months. It was a pretty complicated set up, lots of covers, layered servers. For being crazy, his dad had done an incredible amount of work. Jed read through the stuff. What they really wanted was the paperwork Todd had described that he couldn't figure out. Something to do with the businesses.

"Yeah, Juarez said the money stops at some point."

"Hopefully I can get that stuff from him," Ken said. "Hopefully he'll still let me help. He didn't seem too… uh… open."

"Yeah…" Jed rasped, unwrapping a ham sandwich he'd bought outside. Munched. Seeing Ken and seeing all this shit made him want weed all of a sudden. Crazy stressed.

Ken sat next to him. "Wanna talk? You've had time to process."

"You're a cop. I can't tell you shit."

"I'm not a cop, I'm a consultant. I'm not bound or anything. It's why they hired me. Convicted felon. I got flexibility."

"No shit."

"No shit."

Jed crumpled the paper, tossed it to the trash. Missed. Cursed. Kept eating the sandwich. Looked at Ken. "He's fuckin' crazy. There isn't any helping him."

"Maybe things will get better if we start pulling kids. That's been a big problem according to Juarez."

"I don't know." He was quiet, eating. Finally finishing. He hunted in his bike bag, not finding what he wanted, tossing it. Looked kinda serious at Ken, wiping his mouth. Not really sure where he wanted this conversation to go. Not sure Ken would even know the truth. "Who's Rico? I mean, who is he to my dad?"

Ken scratched his head, gave a hesitant look. Jed wasn't an idiot, but what the hell did Ken know about Manning's psyche? What he _knew_, his own personal experience… was private. And what Gloria had said amounted only to gossip. Decided to treat the questions like one would treat questions from a cop, or a lawyer. Answer the questions exactly as asked. No more, no less.

"He's playing undercover, I think. A lot of this stuff comes from Rico. The hierarchy… the names… the methods, from Rico. He's been out there, hitting the streets. He worked for Manuel Caro."

"Worked?"

"Yeah, _worked_… as a kid…"

"Damn," Jed lay back on the bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "They seemed close," he said. "Came down the stairs together." Glimpsed Ken who just shrugged.

"Probably are close - for months they've been living in pretty tight quarters."

"When he's fucked up, he gets real attached to… _unexpected_ people."

Ken nodded, grunted a wordless acknowledgment. Jed was quiet and Ken just waited. Hoping they'd get out of this mud.

"How did you meet my dad?"

Ken praised the lord for the switch. "Huh." He kind of smiled, sort of a sad smile. "Well, started when I caught a felony for distributing drugs. Brought a shitload of meth into PA in my uncle's truck. Thought I was gonna make a whole lot of money - planned on running away to New York City. Judge threw the book at me - got a full five to seven years in state prison, parole in three. I was 20. Had no decent lawyer - my family was dead broke - not a single member of my family showed up in court." He shook his head. "Anyway, my first two years in Statesville were pure hell, man."

"Shit happen to you?"

"Yeah, I'm gay, kinda short, I was screwed the moment I stepped on campus. Then I met Manning. He… uh… _bought_ me."

"Bought you."

Ken laughed softly, like he was talking about a prank or a college deal. The joke was lost on Jed. "He made a trade. Your dad… demanded _me_ in exchange for information the Aryans wanted. They gave me to him, got whatever shit they wanted."

"You were an Aryan."

"No. They… uh… _claimed_ me… don't think you need details on that shit. Trust me, I am no goddamn aryan."

"Damn, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, here's the thing… those nazi-loving-swastika-sucking assholes… were bad? But they were predictable, I could outsmart them. Couldn't get away physically, but… I managed a little space. It's how I survived. One day they said, hey, you moving to Manning's crew. I knew I was done. He wasn't just strong, scary as FUCK, he was SMART and UNpredictable and crazy. When he looked at you… there was so much going on there. You could FEEL him from across the room. I cried for days, begged the Aryans to keep me…told them I'd get that information for them. They laughed."

"You wanted to stay with them?"

"To avoid your dad, hell yeah. He was gonna KILL ME! I cannot tell you what he looked like back then… what he WAS inside." Ken closed his eyes for a moment, his face drawn in obvious dark recollect. Whispered, "I cannot tell you."

"You don't have to… I visited him."

Blue eyes landed on Jed. "You got a taste of it - you did not get the whole fuckin' meal. I remember walking to his cell. My feet were like lead, aryan dude had to push me. Everyone whistled, calling out 'dead man walking.' Everyone knew I was fucked. When I got there, he was on his bed, legs stretched out… smoking a cigarette and reading a book._ A goddamn book._ He grinned this ugly fucking grin, hair hanging down...dirty. Kinda laughed at me, or at the Aryan. Couldn't tell what he was really grinning about. He stood up and stood over me, close to me… I could smell him, sweat… cigarettes… he said to the Aryan… 'get the fuck out.' It was at that point that I just… hit the floor."

"You fainted."

Ken chuckled quietly, "That I did. Pissed my pants and collapsed. Woke up twenty minutes later, inside the cell, on that floor. He was squatting down and staring at me like some kind of wild animal. A cigarette hanging out of his mouth. That hair..." Ken wasn't laughing anymore. "He took that cigarette and…" He rubbed his face, blew out a hard tension-filled breath. "He took that _lit_ cigarette and pressed it right above my navel. Kept it there while holding me down, hand around my throat...a knee at my crotch, watching me fight."

Jed's eyes were wide, he had never heard this before, he spat, "Jesus CHRIST."

"Yeah. No expression, cold as hell. Said he'd kill me if I ever betrayed him. He used cigarettes on me for the next twenty minutes… when he got done with the two up front, he turned me over. I puked. He didn't care. Gave me three more burns on my back." He raised his shirt and sweater to show his stomach and sure enough… there they were. Two scarred burns.

"See? My dad is FUCKED. Why would he do that to you? Why would-" Jed stopped cold, a light going off. "He _branded_ you."

"Yup. Anyway, when he was finished… he leaned on those the cell bars. Smoking. I lay there like a beached whale. Heaving, lying in my own sick. He watched me for a half hour. Just stood there… nothing but fucked-up hatred raining down on me. And ash. Sometimes I think about it." He breathed a deep refreshing sigh. Smiled. "You know, he's kind of a genius… a mad genius. Doing very little, but making sure I knew I was powerless. I mean, in that hour I _knew_ I was nothing. In that hour, he'd given me a message that two years of Aryan bullshit didn't give me. I can't explain it. Even getting RAPED… didn't make me think I was nothing."

"A genius? Nah, just an asshole. A criminal psychopathic motherfucking asshole. Come on! You know, this is how my stepmom feels: every time you get used to a new low he'll sink to? You learn about another drop."

"There's a point here."

"What? How can you even look at him? How can you be HERE, helping him?"

"Why? Because nothing ever happened to me again. Nobody ever laid another hand on me. I waited and waited… expecting the worst. Nothing. Never got raped again, never got assaulted by him or anyone else. He protected me, asking almost nothing in return. That is NOT the norm. You get protected in prison? You're getting ass-raped, abused, used… you know what he asked? Work in the library. An exchange of gossip here and there. He made me READ. Made me take classes. He made the last part of my sentence totally safe. Oh he kept up his intimidation… pushed me around, me and the other workers. We were never really sure when he'd lose his shit and boy did he sometimes. Cruelty, torture… not beyond him. But it was all just to keep us in line. Keep us safe. If I had stayed the Aryans' punk, I wouldn't be here. I'd have gone home to my screwed-up family, still trying to get to NYC. Probably have gone back to Statesville."

"Did he uh… mark all you guys?"

"As far as I know, yeah. People knew what they meant. As soon as some attacker saw them… they'd back off like we were fuckin' nuclear waste. Happened to me a time or two. See? There was a point to his cruelty."

Jed rubbed his face, shaking his head. "Teleological ethics. That's my father's belief system."

Ken laughed, "Coolio-what?"

"Teleological ethics. Even if actions are bad, if the outcome is good, then the whole thing is good and moral. It's the outcome that matters the most. Burning you was bad, but the goal was to protect you when he couldn't be near you, and it worked. If outcome is good, then every act leading to the good outcome is forgivable even if the acts are bad. Something like that. Sorry…college messed up my brain. Studied ethics… got a B."

"Just a B?"

"I disagreed at points with the prof."

"B or not, it sounds right. So much of what he did was to protect us and himself… I don't even know that he had much of a choice to get there. He was a sex offender and prison is no good to them so he had to be worse than THEM. He had to make EVERYONE believe in his depravity. He could not show anything overtly good… not to anyone in that prison if he wanted to stay alive, if he wanted to make sure WE stayed alive. He took us on, Jed, when he did not have to. The outcome… yeah, for him it's all about the outcome."

Ken sighed, kinda lost in the moment. "Those were difficult times," he said faintly. "For all of us. For anyone getting stuck in Statesville at that time."

Jed lay, being thoughtful. Silent. That process of abusing the kids to make them afraid, so they'd keep their noses clean and stay in line, stay safe, sounded like Pops all right. All about a good outcome. He wanted to scare Jed into going home, to be safe. He wondered now about Rico again, Gloria… did Todd abuse them to stay in line? They sure seemed devoted yesterday, ready to do whatever he asked, whatever he wanted. Like Brandy. They jumped, man, when he said leave. JUMPED. Maybe Rico was all wet because he tried to help and Todd just wouldn't have it. Maybe Rico was like Brandy, messed up. Had to be… working streets since he was… six? No, that isn't streets. That was captivity. Rico would have to be… really fucked up. Maybe the closeness was just empathy. His dad related to those kinds of people because of the horrific things he experienced.

From across the room, Jed said, "He doesn't plan on leaving MK. He's gonna bring Moreno down. Get him into prison on the child porn thing. My dad will take over the organization. That's his plan. Be the King... of Kings."

Ken smirked. "Of course. The Mad King. To be truthful, Juarez didn't think it was likely Moreno would give up MK."

"No?"

"No. So I'm not surprised your dad has shifted gears on this. All it means is that he'll continue to be under the cops' purview. His immunity doesn't cover NEW crimes. So if he gets caught, he'll go to prison. He won't ever get out either."

"Kinda figured that. He has new ink, Ken. Real MK color. Not hidden. He's committed to it. Big black across his stomach… _Los Reyes del Mambo_. On his back… _La Habana Cuba_. He's in it for life. You don't laser that shit off. Tea won't take him back. She won't let him see the kids... There's no way. I didn't tell her any of this. I can't. I just can't do it. I'll have nothing to give my dad hope about."

"Put that aside for now. What did you call it? Telio…"

"Teleological ethics."

"He's got an eye on a good outcome. Even if things look bad… he wants good in the end. I think we can actually count on it. Jed, your dad is not a bad person. He is inherently GOOD. I truly believe that."

"I don't. I thought I did? After yesterday... I just don't."

"Well, kings abdicate, kings surrender. We just have to wait to see what his intended outcome is." Ken smiled again. "Look, no matter the final call on your dad's true self, we have a child porn ring to bust. I don't need to tell you… if this comes through, it will be significant. Huge numbers. Unprecedented. So, I'd like you to stick around. I believe you'll be an effective middleman. I believe your dad will warm to the idea of you being here. You've been helping him with MK for a long time. You know a lot, you know how to talk to him. I saw you deal with his shit… you got some moves on you, man, and I know he respects that. You can help this project. And maybe... maybe he'll surprise us. Maybe he'll show you the ultimate outcome is a good one."

Jed walked to his bag, got a Coke out. Walked to the window, drank up. Ken left him alone. Got on the computers. Started monitoring chat rooms. Jed watched him. The guy took notes on what he was seeing. He was fast. Switching screens, sending information. Jed saw pictures. Turned away. Ken didn't.

"How can you look at that stuff?"

"Never get used to it but when I see it, I know I got that bastard. I'm happy to see it. Every picture puts us one step closer to the bust."

Jed sniffed, groaned and stood up. Shaking shit off. He walked to the door, turned, and said, "I'll stay. I'll help. This is bigger than him, than me, than you… I'll stay. For those kids. For a good outcome."

Ken smiled, "Good. We're gonna make a difference. I know it."

"I hope so. I fuckin' hope so."

"Okay, we'll start in the morning. Go out. Go to a club. Have fun." He smiled, "Get laid, Jed."

* * *

><p>Rico moved like a cat through the crowd of people, slinking between couples, moving out of their way just in time to avoid their limbs from hitting him. The music was loud and people were jumpin', grinding, laughing, smiling, sweating in the dark. Rico knew people, how they moved, how they thought, knew their secrets. How he knew all this gave Todd a pain in his gut. He watched him from the counter, whiskey in a shot glass. Drank up. Followed Rico all the way here from the beach house to this stupid-ass bar. Looked around, corrected himself: stupid-ass <em>gay<em> bar. MotherFUCK. A dude grabbed Rico and pulled him into a swing. A dance. Pressed him close, rocked to the music. Rico looked the guy deep in the eyes, smiled seductively, danced, but after a bit, pulled out of the hold. Continued his push to the back of the bar. Flashed Todd the middle finger, high up in the air. Disappeared.

_Yeah, fuck you too._

The cigarette tasted good. It had been a long time since he had his smokes and he was fine being off them but seeing Jedediah had opened him up… too much. The deep disappointment on his son's face… to be with him in this space, in real time, real life, messed up his plans, his thinking, his ideas. Needed to occupy his mouth. Stop the thinking. He'd have been fighting today, felt a need to punch something, but DAMN, his ribs were bruised bad. Might even be fractured. No way could he handle a beating. So he turned to smokes and booze and was willing to sit here in this fucking fag bar 'cause he wasn't likely to run into opponents…

Asked for more whiskey. Drunk it down. Asked for the damn bottle. Kept drinking. The darkness swam, the music drowning him, the Latin rap bass reverberating. The whiskey shook in the glass. Like an earthquake.

Loud, but not loud enough. Never loud enough.

Stared at the wooden countertop, water drops all over. Ran his fingers through the wetness. Thought about yesterday. Between seeing Jedediah, knowing that girl had been at that house, and that shit in the kitchen… he was upset, confused. LIFE was confusing and he felt disconnected. Like literally, felt two inches off the ground, floating all damn day.

Jed probably split. Should have. Todd thought he wanted that, it was part of his intention to chase the kid home, but he loved his kid beyond words and seeing him made him want home again. Want everyone again. Made him want to lay his head against his Tea, and _that_ made him want to cry like a baby. When that beach house door had slammed shut… he had heard a wounded dog's whine, his own, weeping as he lay on those hardwood steps. Truth was, he loved seeing Jed's face. Wanted him to stay.

Drank another shot.

Shit in the kitchen messed him up too. Reminded him of... Marty. Jesus, he hardly ever thought of her. Funny thing, gang rape and group sex... In his head they kinda blended. Remembered too clearly watching the frat boys get their turn, eyes on their asses, watching that pumping action, remembered being aware that they had watched him. Saw his own father and Phillip Manning take down Georgie.

And everything with Rico...fucked him up. _Confused him. _

Yeah, the whole mixing up of more than two people got under his skin, deep into his psyche, and all that was left was pissed-off-ness. When morning came around that had quickly turned to afternoon, he had confronted Rico in the hallway. Got in his face.

_Why'd you do that? Why'd you get involved? What the fuck was THAT?! Don't ever touch me or Gloria like that, not THEN… NOT like that!_

_What?! What?! Besides you liking that shit, wanting my mouth on you, you touching me all through it, you were HURTING OUR SISTER! She was not ready for you… she was not wet enough, cabron! I had to make it good for her. I could not stand to watch her get hurt like that. She did not deserve your shit. _

_Then don't watch, bitch._

_Fuck you, Blanco… fuck you so fucking hard. You need to learn respect. You don't got that inside of you. No respect._ _Am I next? You going to do that to me next? Disrespect me? Are you going to rape me next?_

Yeah, when he said that, something like acid rushed into his head and without thinking twice he pushed Rico so forcibly he fell back, hit the hardwood floor. Boy just lay there, glaring, so much hatred. Todd had wanted to punch him but restrained. Stormed off.

The hours passed with all of them in their own corners. Doing their thing. Nobody talking to anybody. Night hit and Rico got all dressed up, walking out the front door, and Todd took off after him, following the little shit all the way into town, leaving Abram and Gloria behind in the dark house. Nothing in his head, no idea why, just did it. Midway there, though, Rico turned around and came at Todd. Shoved him back, surprisingly violent.

"Did I tell you to come with me? Did I tell you that, motherfucker? Did I _invite _you?!"

"I don't trust you," Todd said, working hard to keep all his hate in check. "Where you going?"

Oh yeah, that got to Rico. He got up close, _"You don't trust me? … but you trust me with your cock, yeah, trust me to make you come… " _He was crude, making the movement of stroking a dick. "_Maybe that what's getting to you? You didn't like me getting on Glo-Lo… didn't like me touching her pussy because you're a jealous, possessive bitch. Too bad, my lion… I like to spread all this around. I don't belong to you. And neither does she."_

Todd backed up sharply, shaking his head, no… no… _Confused_. He couldn't say yay or nay to any of that. Had no comeback. All he knew was that he was gonna stay on him. Rico took off again, refusing to talk, not listening. Turned around, gave the international fuck you sign, and whipped forward again, practically sprinting.

The whiskey tasted good, shooting right into his head. Everything was so screwed up. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't deal. Wondered where Jed was again. Hoped he'd gone home. Llanview. Where Pedro Moreno's MK was dying. Needed to make a call to Rolon. Let him know Jed was kind of on to the sitch. So why was he here, following Rico like a love-sick puppy? What bullshit was this? For the first time since the shooting, whiskey was not enough.

God, god, god, he needed _dope_. The craving had bloomed like a fast-forward film of springtime grass. Widespread and tall.

FUCK.

Decided real quick. Big old neon YES. Yeah, yeah, that's right, we gonna make a sharp out-of-the-blue left into toontown. He looked around, scoping for the drug dealers. _Come on, come on, come on…. I know you're here._ He got up, grabbing the whiskey, started to walk the perimeter of the place, hunting, hunting. Knocked the bottle back, eyeing everyone, men watching him right back. He knew it looked like he was on the prowl for sex, all six foot of him, dressed in black, long stringy hair half pulled into a tie, but he didn't give two shits. He needed heroin. He shuddered at the awfulness of being devoured by the customers, made him feel like meat- no, no, worse. Made him feel powerless and that ALWAYS made him breathlessly angry. How could Rico do this? How did he get power from it? He glared at a couple of guys ogling him. They meant business… they wanted to get at him.

Moved close, bent just enough, and growled, _"You do NOT want THIS. I will fuck you UP."_

They laughed but it was one of those laughs that meant… yeah, holy shit, got it. They nodded, put hands up, "_It's okay, my brother, it's okay._"

There was a guy sitting in the back, had to be dealing. Had it written all over him. That and the fact that some guy gave him money and the guy handed something back. Neon.

In Spanish, Todd grumbled, "_What do you have, and how much? Huh? You got heroin?"_

"_Why are you talking to me? Move on."_

"_Do I look like I'm in the mood for bullshit? What do you have, and for HOW MUCH?"_

Guy debated, glancing around. Looked Todd up and down. "_I do not know you."_

"_You don't want to know me, motherfucker. If you lie again, I will wait for you, and I won't pay you for the shit you're carrying."_

Rolled his eyes at last. _"I have it all."_

They made the deal. Todd had powder. No needle required. He about cried, about got to his knees and kissed the dealer's ugly-ass boots. The bag was heavy in his pocket, so precious, so sorely missed. Gone were his fears, his worries. Didn't care about addiction, being out of touch or what it would do to the kids… didn't care about missing something… what difference if he died now or later? That girl was in his reach and he still lost her. Every day they got lost… what difference anymore?

_Just give it to me. God, god… take me home. Let me fly back to my family. _

He tossed the whiskey in the trash. Moved out the back… found the bathroom. Could practically taste it, wanted to disappear into the high so damn bad-

Oh shit… when he walked in so much was happening. He thought the sexuality was out in the open in the main room - this was just plain sex. Men… using each other, abusing each other. Todd stood like he was surrounded by fire. Was about to get the hell out… he'd just-

_But no. _

There was Rico… getting_ fucked_ in the ass in some _goddamn_ stall. Jeans down… some dude… the dancing dude... had Rico's hair in his hands, pumping away. Rico was holding on to the toilet tank with one hand, jerking off with the other. Todd squeezed shut his eyes, the hate rushing big, the hate hurting big, the _crazy_ swirling BIG. Felt a knife tearing in his belly. Too many things in his head, memories, mad-dog ownership, madness.

Opened his eyes and his body followed his brain.

Stalked right over there, pulled the man off Rico, and proceeded to beat the living SHIT out of the guy. Todd had him in his grip, punching him, over and over, dropping down, ending up straddling him and continuing the assault. Men scrambled, running like rats. Others just watched, unsurprised. Still another called out in English, _WHOOO….LUCKY BOY, THAT BE LOVE_. Shit splashed, blood, saliva, puke, the man grunting and groaning, a face that would never be the same.

Rico yanked up his jeans and threw himself at Todd, pushing him, just enough to distract him. Then got up and wrapped a firm arm around his throat, effectively cutting off air because he didn't have anywhere near the physical strength to actually move him. "_Blanco, ENOUGH! It's okay, it's okay! Stop! STOP!" _

Pulled hard, pulled so hard against Todd's throat that he finally gave up because he couldn't fucking breathe. Fell back, coughing, choking, trying to catch a breath. Let go of that asshole on the floor who crawled away, managing to get to his feet and running out the door, blood trailing behind, condom-covered dick swinging.

Todd got to his feet and turned right on Rico, digging fingers into his arm and dragging him out, _out, out, out,_ walking through the crowd, out the front door, jerking him, pulling him down the sidewalk, past the other bars, Rico fighting him all the way. Todd was walking so fast, blinded with fury, he did not see Jedediah walking right past him.

At last, Todd pulled Rico into an alleyway and slammed him up against the brick wall. Smacked hard hands on Rico's shoulders, looked him in the eyes, and shook the SHIT out of him, "YOU ARE NOT THERE ANYMORE! YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS ANYMORE! THOSE MEN ARE GONE! WAKE UP! WAKE THE FUCK UP!" He shook him again, "Do you understand me?! DO YOU?!" When he saw Rico's face of utter shock, he softened, "_Mari… mari… you are free of them!"_

Rico hadn't really expected those words. He thought _Blanco_ was just jealous, thought _Blanco _would be promising things, money, clothes, jewelry… the usual garbage Rico got. Tears rolled down and he swallowed. He was... _confused. _Nobody had ever in his whole life told him to stop. Nobody had ever told him he had a choice. Nobody had ever cared what happened to him.

_Nobody._

Rico put his hands on his face, tears coming thick, and slid down. Todd stood over him, just watching him. Finally got down, squatted down, gently talking, _"Mari, mi mari precioso… what is the point of what we are doing if you keep at it? You don't have to do it anymore. You're free. You're free of all of it. Do you understand?"_

Rico couldn't talk. He just kept sobbing into his hands. Hiding. Instinctively, Todd held Rico by the hair, pulling him closer, holding him. He let go though, Rico pushing him away. Todd moved next to him. Plopped down next to him against that wall, feeling that whiskey. Better, feeling the dope in his pocket. They just sat under the night clouds, the moonlight coming through anyway.

After some time Rico calmed down. Turned to Todd, "_What do you want from me?"_

"_I want you safe. I am working to keep kids safe. WE are working to keep kids safe. What is the point if you keep acting like a whore? You said you own it now, that you deal by being the one in control… but they're still raping you. I want you out of that. Let go of that past, stop living it."_

"_So I'll dream like you?"_

"_Maybe you won't."_

"_I'll stop when you stop."_

Todd had nothing to say to that. Who the hell was he to say these things to Rico, heroin screaming at him, memories jackhammering holes in his mind and heart. He acted no different, doing the same things over and over. He sighed, shrugged. "Don't know how to stop, I guess. Like you maybe. We can't seem to stop being there."

Jedediah had seen Todd rush past him, pulling Rico down the main boulevard like a bad child, the two in an obvious fight. Swinging around, Jed found himself chasing them. Then quit. Said,_ no, no, got your own problems._ Turned back around and kept walking. _Not gonna care. Not gonna give a shit. Tomorrow we'll deal._

Lasted twenty minutes.

Headed back in their direction and started looking. Peeked inside the bars, peered down alleyways. Stopped cold when he saw them deep in a dim cobblestone alley. Hunkered down. Just sitting. Jed did not want to sneak up. He leaned back against the wall, head back. He'd had a night, still kinda drunk. Met a girl… got something on… but then just lost the feel for it. Didn't much feel like it. Split.

Glimpsed the light of a shared cigarette. Waited some more. Jed then moved down the alley, coming right up on them.

Rico stretched his legs out, eyes up at their visitor, all relaxed, said, "Jedidiah." He had a smooth liquid tone, something in it Jed couldn't identify.

Todd'd head was down, but now he glanced up, offering Jed the barest of smiles that disappeared fast. He rubbed the back of his head against the brick wall, eyes half closed, hair fallen out of a tie, strands covering his cheek. Licked his lips. "You still here, beautiful son o'mine. I wondered 'bout you." He sighed, lips parted. A blissful sigh. Eyes closing.

Shit, shit, shit. Jed knew that raspy voice, this particular disconnect. Knew it immediately. And it cut right through him. He dropped down, looked at his father nodding out, "Oh Pops, you're high. Didn't know you could get dope out here."

"Yup. Be surprised shit you get."

"Don' worry, Jedediah, I got the stuff. Only let him use a little. Like that much." He held fingers up, one eye squeezed. Fuckin' Rico was doped up, too. THAT was what he was hearing.

Jed looked away a moment, trying to contain his sudden wish to punch Rico, turned back. "He's an addict, dude. There is no such thing as a little. It's hit you good, Pops… you been off it too long…"

Rico acted surprised. "Yeah?!" Turned to Todd, "What? You are a heroin addict? Since when?!" Then laughed like a hyena. Falling over, laughing softly. Todd smirked, "It hit me good… yeah, yeah," eyes moving to Rico. Rubbed his face. Closed his eyes. Head back on the brick. Drifting bad. Rico continued to laugh softly, lying now on his back, eyes on the moon. Completely fucked up.

Jed sat back on his ass, smelling booze. Yeah, scotch and heroin... the combo made for an intense high which was not only dangerous, but a bullet train for his dad to getting hooked again. Shook his head and breathed out rough, "Pops, I'm sorry."

Took a moment... like the words had to reach him first, had to be mulled over. Then, "Why you apologizin', baby boy?"

"For coming here, for being arrogant. For forgetting how much you lose when you fight me. When I interrupt your crazy."

Doubted his dad heard him because suddenly Rico crawled to Todd, getting on his legs, purring Spanish, "_My lion, my lion...I want to kiss you..._" He moved up a little, pushing his head against Todd's body and wrapping arms around his neck. Jed just turned away, kind of huffing. No boundaries. He knew it. He knew shit was happening between them. Something in Rico's Spanish plea seemed more than just drunken affection. Jed slid back further away, cursing under his breath. He did not want to see this but couldn't help looking. Maybe wanting confirmation… maybe… like watching a fuckin' train wreck.

"_Mari, mari_...come on," Todd whispered, arms around Rico... who then clumsily mashed his mouth against Todd's, Todd not reacting for a moment, but then… Jed definitely saw Todd kiss him right back, an easy lustful drunken kiss. Smack on parted lips before delicately pushing him away. Whispered Spanish words that Jed didn't understand, getting Rico to put his head down on Todd's chest.

"No, no, no...," Rico muttered, real emotion there. Todd put a hand on his head, held his hair in his fist. Still trying to make a point, wordlessly.

"I heard you, _Blanco, _I promise. Let go of me..." Whispered, "Let go, _mi diablo_." Fingers on Todd's beard, pulling it tenderly. Todd released him, stretching his fingers, put his hands on the chilled ground. He dropped back against the brick, drifting.

The exchange was so intimate, Jed had to close his eyes, had to quit looking, an ache bubbling inside of him. Not knowing why. It just hurt. Something about them hurt. Maybe it was the Brandy thing, just knowing how messed up they all were. That people… horrible disgusting evil people had done such destructive things to them. Rubbed his head, putting the red beanie back on. Sat a long while in the quiet dark.

After a bit, he spoke up, thinking to remind his dad he was right next to him. "You okay, Pops?"

Todd licked his lips and turned to him with those glassy heroin-eyes. Murmured, "No, no...I am fucked up, I miss my family, I miss you, I miss my Delgado." He moaned softly, the sound full of pain despite the dope, "oh I am... most assuredly, not okay." He smiled, a smile full of sorrow, reaching a hand towards Jed but they were too far apart. "I love you. I love you so goddamn much it hurts."

"I know. Let's get you back to the beach house, yeah?"

"But do you love ME, _Blanco?" _Rico was still lying back, knees up, arms flung. Eyes on the clouds.

Todd turned to him, voice soft, more Spanish, sounding half in a dream. _"Yes, yes, I love you, love you like I love heroin, like I love the streets and that moment when the cold ocean washes my feet on a hot day."_

Rico had his eyes closed, laughed quietly at the sky. Then he covered his face with his hands and Jed saw that he silently wept. Todd just continued in that heroin nod, unaware of the impact he had on Rico.

Jed recognized some of those words... Conjugations of _amor _as a verb. A_mo, ama. Love. _Oh yeah, and heroin.

Jed flagged a taxi, walked a barely conscious Todd to the front of the taxi cab. Noticed his bloody knuckles in the streetlights. Rico tumbled into the back seat, Jed getting in and closing the door. Watched the lights of Havana as they made their way to the beach house. Gloria had been sleeping. She'd been surprised to see Jed at the door. She looked worried, pulled them all in. The two men stumbled upstairs, quiet, quiet. Jed pulled her aside, "He's high on dope. Please, please, take the heroin away. It's on him or Rico somewhere. It's just a delay tactic. Once he starts up… it's hard to get him off that train. He's gonna do it again."

Gloria nodded, placing a hand on his warm cheek, "I know. I know how he uses. You are a good son. I will find it. Throw it out. I promise. Don't worry."

He sighed, "It's my fault. Should have stayed home. Seeing me upset him."

Smiling, she shook her head. "No… don't take that on. You were fine to come down here. You didn't start him on it again. HE started. He made that choice."

Jed left, took the taxi to the bars. Drank until he could smack his lips with his hand and not feel it to the rousing approval of new Cuban friends. He danced with all the other _Cubanos_, danced like a buffoon, drunkenly, not giving a shit about anything.

Hooked up with a beautiful mocha-skinned chick who could drink more than he could. They ended up in the alley, fucking like animals, her hands up against the wall, dress up, Jed deep inside of her, his hand caressing her breasts, fingers on her hard nipples. He came so hard, grunting, "oh my fucking god," came so hard he nearly fell, the two laughing, spit-laughing. Five minutes rolled by and she was going down on him because he was ready again, wanting more. He had her by her wild curly black hair, his eyes on that moon shining behind the clouds. She pulled her mouth off him towards the end and rubbed him hard and fast until he jerked against the brick wall, wetness all over her hand, her pretty smile open and also not giving a shit about anything. She kissed him in a bruising way, pushing him back against the wall, the two breathless. When they calmed, she handed him a joint. He took his jacket off and lay it on the ground. She sat on the warm jacket, he on the dirty ground. He lit up, the two passing the joint back and forth. Tasted good, relieving. He'd had a night, yeah?

He asked, "hey, hey, what does, '_mari' _mean?"

She laughed, dreamy dark eyes looking at Jed, "who says that word?"

He kissed her, her lips too luscious to not be kissed. She smiled. He said, "just a guy I know. Calls his friend that."

"This friend, he is man, too?"

"Yeah."

"Short for _maricon, _insulting word...like in American English? Um… faggot?" She smiled, raising a shoulder and he nodded. She elaborated, "But sometimes men who are lovers call each other, _mari. _It is a nice word. A love word."

"Love."

"Sometimes, yes."

They finished the joint and beautiful, oh so beautiful Ana kissed him again. Soft, gentle, meaningful. Picked up his hand and with a pen she'd dug out of the small purse hanging at her side, wrote her number on his palm. She kissed him a last time and said, I like you, Jedediah, and walked off into the night.

He stumbled the few blocks to the hotel. Drunk, high… ended up banging on Ken's door, banging until hipster Ken undid the locks and Jed fell onto him. "Explain it to me, dude, explain it to me."

"What's going on, kid, huh?"

"Explain my dad...and _Rico_..."

"Aww shit, buddy, wish I could." He closed the door, Jed took five steps and passed out on the extra bed. Completely out. Ken just felt sad for him. Knew what it was to know a person too well, and yet not well enough to understand them.

Kind of like the universe, yeah?

**To be continued...**


	44. Chapter 44

**Caged**

**Chapter 44**

Todd lay stomach down on the side of a bed, arm hanging off the side, black all around. He could tell, something told him, he was still on the heroin ride. Didn't even know what room he was in or if he was dressed or what time it was or where this bed was at all… no, no, not a bed at all. A raft. He drifted along a river of thought and dreams. Delgado with him. Not in a shining-light-on-her way but in a side-kick way. He was the Lone Ranger and she was his Tonto. More like she was high, too, and she was on this raft watching the same bizarre shit he was watching. _What you see, mami, what you see?_ He could hear himself breathe, in and out, in and out, in and out, deep inside of himself.

_You breathing too, Delgado? _

Someone struggled to move him. From far away he heard… _Blanco… come on….get up… up here… _

Stomach down again. Slipped back into the all-around black. He was peaceful, the raft floating easy now. Hands in the water, swirling the fresh. _What you see, what you see… _clear water, blue black grey rocks, orange silver fish swimming back and forth between the rocks, plankton rising up, swaying green fuzzy stalks. Watch them move this way and that, dancing in the current.

_It's not even cold, Delgado. Come, feel it. _

She's right next to him. Warmth emanates off her and he shifts closer, getting next to that heat. Both looking over the edge, both stomachs down. She is beautiful, her chestnut brown hair flying in the gentle breeze, coffee brown eyes full of curiosity… and _love_. God, god, he can feel it, such powerful love. Love that can change him. Love that can move him. Love that reaches into the darkest core of him.

_Tea, my Delgado... only you could do such a thing. _

She sees the water, too, and smiles at him and he smiles back at her. He loves her eyes, how they crinkle when she smiles that way. He doesn't want to ever let her go. He needs her in his life, on this raft, in this water. He needs her always. She reaches a hand to him, the lightest brush of her fingertips on his cheek. She gazes directly at him and he breathes her in, breathing her light inside of him. Her eyes close, though, cutting off light, and she turns away. The raft is moving faster, shifting back and forth in the rough water and he gets that it's heading towards rapids and a waterfall even and she says no way, not doing that, and he feels her leaving. And in an instant she is gone and he is alone and afraid and crazy mad with disbelief.

_Wait, wait...the water is so cold. I don't want to go into that white alone! Delgado, take me with you! I am freezing. I am going to die, do you not understand that? Death is permanent. I will NEVER see you again. How can you do this to me? _

_HOW COULD YOU DO WHAT YOU DID TO ME?! _

_Please don't leave me...don't leave me alone with him_. _He says he'll kill me if I tell anyone. Tell him to stop doing that... I don't want it anymore… please… stop, stop, stop... _

_I am dying..._

He woke ever so slightly, a mild awareness of something but not exactly sure of what. One thing he was clear on: an unsolicited orgasm. He grunted and fisted his cock, the shudders fading with consciousness. He opened eyes to dark light and was freezing cold so he curled up like a pill bug, _knowing... knowing… _Nausea roils his belly but not enough to shake him out of bed.

_Knowing everything. Knowing all truths. _

Closed his eyes, grey light gone. Pictures of the Cuban kids flashed in his head, a speedy slideshow. Snap, snap, snap, snap. Those faces. Elon again, that house, that girl in the door, reaching for Abram. Swam back into the black, letting the heroin remainder pull him into the dream again. He breathed in… the dusty bookish smell of his old room coming to him… summer darkness having rolled in like a tide… crickets twirping, trees shushing in a breeze, the fan's swish, swish, swish… the bedroom door opening... light coming in… and he's looking at a shadow… and the terror starts all over again...

Suddenly he had a distinct sense of being pulled away from the dream or the _knowledge, _floating away, up, up, and away, like Superman into the great big blue. Whoosh. He sighed, the sound of his breath the only thing he heard. An easy peacefulness billowed through his head and then his body, flowing from a spiritual hub inside of him and stretching out in all directions. He had no idea where he was anymore, no awareness of any part of his physical being. Light clouded his vision, his hearing, his sense of touch. He could breathe… this he heard, even and steady breaths… light seeped into him and he became the light. Breathed in and out, in and out...

_Blissful._

* * *

><p>Jedediah opened his eyes to the sounds of Havana, cars honking, a bus or two passing by, voices. He immediately knew he was in Ken's room because he smelled his cologne. The windows were open, wide open, and cold air was coming into the room. Jed wore the same clothes from last night and across the room sat Ken at his computer paradise, typing away. The occasional sniffle. Drinking coffee. Jed could hear the slurping.<p>

_Mother of GOD_, he groaned. The hangover from hell. What was HE celebrating?

Ken turned, "Ahhh...he is alive, he's ALIVE!" Copying Frankenstein.

"Shut it… oh man…"

He rolled off the bed, hitting the floor with a grunt. A hardwood floor that had absolutely no goddamn give. He lay there some minutes then grabbed the side and pulled himself up. Patted his pockets. Found a key.

"If you're gonna puke, please, please don't do it here, bud."

"Wish you hadn't said that."

He stumbled to the door and had to hit the bathroom down the hall. Not fun at all. Dragged his ass to his own room, got clothes, then hit the shower. Warm water, relieving. Needed a massive dose of water, aspirin, coffee, and food. In that order.

Ken smiled when he opened the door, "Welcome back. Some of kind of night, yeah?"

"I met the most beautiful girl… and lost her number in the shower. Sonofabitch."

He plopped on the bed. A tray of sandwiches and chips and water and… ahhhhh… ibuprofen… "Thank GOD…" He ate quietly, drank the water and coffee. After a while of ingesting… he felt more human again. Eyes up, "So… saw my dad last night. Fucked up on dope."

"Shit. Too bad."

"Yeah. Back to using I guess. Found him in an alley… did I mention how fucked up he was?"

"That you did," Ken hmmed… "He was alone?"

"Rico next to him, all screwed up, too."

"Ah. Gotta say, I've never known your dad sober. Bet he'd be someone." Ken heard something beep on the computer, turned to check it out. Jedediah was quiet. Too long. Ken turned back, finding Jed staring at him. "What?"

"They're like… having a thing. You know, a THING."

Ken smiled, a small gentle one. "And you know this…?"

"Just saw and heard too much. Both screwed up, hardly knew I was there. So yeah, too goddamn open. A thing is… happening."

"Ah. You okay?"

Jedediah pinched his eyes shut a moment, then put his whole body into his words, his hands punching the air, practically jumping off the bed. "This is like total fucking alien territory! I got no point of reference here, man! My dad is the most fucking macho woman-loving man I know. He doesn't just love women, he blows shit up for them, he will kill anyone who interferes with a chick he LOVES. You got no idea the lengths he will go for them."

"Ah... please don't let me disturb your stereotypical beliefs."

"I know, I know, YMCA construction workers and cops, but seriously, you're like…_ gay_… what does this mean?"

Ken gazed a moment at Jed then laughed, kind of sad, really, "Dude, I can only speak for myself. Just 'cause I'm gay doesn't mean I'm the… Wizard of Gayness. There isn't any REAL such thing as gay-dar." He got serious at the upset on Jed's face. "You gotta talk to him. He is the ONLY one who can tell you anything."

"He's gonna tell me to fuck off."

"Probably. And it's his prerogative. But whatever it is, we got a job to do. A priority. Whatever he's doing with Rico… that isn't our problem unless it interferes with the job. You gotta just suck it up right now."

Jed stretched the muscles in his neck, groaning, "Please don't say suck in this current conversation." Ken winced.

Jed sighed, anxious. He couldn't get the image of Rico moving in on his dad with that goddamn kiss. It freaked him out. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. But then… it fit what he already knew. His suspicions. Shit that supposedly happened.

He glanced at Ken, "He was molested when he was a kid, like… really bad by his step-father. Does that have anything to do with this? I mean, my dad got all wrapped up with this other chick and they really connected because she was like all fucked up in the same way he was… so… you said Rico worked for Caro...?"

Ken hmmed, got contemplative for some moments. "Yeah, might have something to do with it. Sure. Sometimes guys who been abused… kind of… recreate the situation? Might be compulsive about it. Like sex addiction. Dirty secret kind of thing. It's got nothing to do with sexual orientation. Read something about this. Don't have a clue if it's true, Wikipedia and all." Ken appeared thoughtful, his face drawn. "Whatever it is, try to be patient. People are really complicated. Don't jump to conclusions. He's the only one to explain it… and I bet the moon he can't." Added, "Wish I could say more, brother."

Ken could have offered confirmation that yeah, this was likely, that yeah, Manning was capable of breathtaking heat in more than one direction. That never had Ken been with a person so consumed with sadness that he felt the possibility of becoming lost in it. That maybe the sadness was so impossible to heal that he would reach out to any person, no matter who they were, for the smallest hope of being free. Could have said a lot. He didn't.

"Too much information as it is, making my headache worse." Jed rubbed his face, adjusted his beanie, purple today. Got up. "I'm heading out there. I want to see him in the cold light of day, man. He knows I'm here. So… I just gotta see him. Maybe, maybe we can actually have a chat that doesn't involve violence or him being high."

"Hey, arrange a time he can come here. We HAVE to get his information, that paperwork."

"Sure… sure…"_  
><em>

* * *

><p>When he woke again, having no sense of how much time had passed, he blindly reached for a blurry glass of water, knocking it over, water splashing everywhere. He rested his hand on the table, fingers in the spill. From someplace, from all around, he heard Rico call out, <em>"Blanco! You're awake. Thank god..."<em>

Soon he spoke from the floor, cleaning up. The purple hoodie bounced, moving in a little back and forth circle. Must have been a lot of goddamn water. The work stopped and the purple hood looked up, towel in hand, glass in the other. Dark wary eyes and a hard-set expression got directed at Todd.

"You were not waking up," Rico said, "...eyes open... not moving..."

"Fuck," he groaned. Dug the heels of his hands against his eyes. Todd's brain was fuzzy, remembered a dream... a dream that felt real, like a memory. Same old shit, yeah? "Time is it?"

"Two thirty." He gazed at Todd who was still trying to wake up, rubbing his face more, still looking around like he was trying to figure out where he was. Rico asked hesitatingly, "Where do you go, _Blanco? _Where does your mind... go?"

He thought about it, grumbling, "Don't remember. It's like sleeping... like nothing."

"You feel okay?"

"I have a fucking hangover." Yelled into his hands, "FUCK!"

"Jedediah-"

"Brought us back," he growled, "I know. Why is that kid everywhere I fucking turn?" Sitting up, he swung his legs out, perched at the edge of the bed. Boxer briefs only. Rubbed his chest, fingertips on the bullet wounds. Felt the painful echo of Tea but shooed her away, out of his head. _Go away, go away. _Thing was, Jedediah reminded him of Tea. When he looked at Todd with all that judgment… he felt Tea. Thing was… Jedediah wasn't going anywhere.

_Go away, go away, go away. Please… just fucking GO._

His clothes were in a pile. Touched his crotch. Damp. Disgusting. Whatever he was dreaming made him come in his sleep. Old old shit. Felt fucking irritable. Rico left the room, Todd watching him intently. Man moved slowly, had this particular gait, long smooth strides like a dancer. Todd just sat there, eyes moving to the beach in the distance. Listened to the constant waves crashing on the sand. Something buzzed inside of him. Stared hard at the grey light. Birds diving into the water.

Rico appeared again soon enough. Coffee and water. Caught that dark look from Todd who grabbed the water and gulped it down. Pushed the coffee away, Rico setting it on the night table. The house was quiet. Gloria was out grocery shopping, Rico said. Took Abram with her. He then gently inquired, "What do you need, _mi león?"_

"I don't know." A monotone voice, keeping watch on Rico. There was a lot of shit happening in his head, lots of thoughts, a swelling of hate.

Rico gave him room, looking worried, not getting close at all. Feeling that bad energy.

Todd got off the bed, pacing now, hair hanging, stringy in his face, all that ink. Fists opening and closing, shaking out his arms. A true animal. He studied the wooden planks as he walked back and forth, lines moving, lines within lines, grey light flowing all around. Tried to remember that goddamn dream but everything had gone into the _fucking_ ether. Why did he care to remember painful sick garbage that made him crazy? Grabbed his crotch a moment. What, what...what did he hear in his head?

_Knowledge of all truths._

He grunted softly as he took steps, as if walking hurt. Kinda did. Breathing hurt. Thinking hurt. He knew _everything_. A thought punched at him. Ugly. He shook his head, chasing it away, murmured, "The truth. What truth? Your truth, my truth, who else's truth?" Groaned, "What _fucking_ truth?"

Rico didn't like any of this so he started to leave, but just as he got to the door, a hard hand landed on his shoulder and yanked him back. He turned, a hand rubbing the pinch. Didn't understand what was going on.

"_What's wrong, Blanco?"_

_Blanco _pushed him back, back, got him up against the wall. His face twitched with a range of emotion, his skin cold, his body tight. Holding Rico solidly against the wall by the front of his hoodie. Rico was trying to be patient, dark eyes boring into his captor, but all that was coming across was bewilderment. Said, "_What do you want?" _He had his hands up, trying to gentle the animal staring him down.

_"Where is it? What do you do? _How is it you're not crazy? What is YOUR fucking truth?"

"I told you. I am a whore. That is bad enough, yes?"

"No! That is not it." He lifted Rico's hoodie at the bottom, raising the tee-shirt. Rico didn't fight it, lifted his arms to make it easier. Todd ran a hand down smooth skin. Ran his hand under the shirt in back, eyes hard on Rico's. Feeling the silky soft skin, their faces close, feeling warmth. Todd let go, took an arm, then the other, raising the hoodie's sleeves, looking for scars on his wrists. "Not a scar on obvious places. You cut somewhere else? Or burn-"

"I sell my body, I cannot make myself..." He licked his lips, glanced down Todd's body, hissed... "I cannot be ugly. Men want beautiful perfect bodies."

Todd was quiet, taking in his words. Processing them. Then grabbed the front of the sweatshirt and jerked Rico, banging him against the wall. "So where does it go?! It HAS to go somewhere! My friend Brandy liked pain, you don't. I use heroin, tune out, others have multiple personalities, suicide attempts, constant self-mutilation, depression... Others turn into rapists, pedophiles... WHAT DO YOU DO?! You don't even fucking _dream_ about what they did to you! Where is your crazy?! Maybe you are a liar! Maybe nothing happened to you!"

Rico found himself mute at the harshness of the accusation. Finally said, "I would not lie to you," as he looked deep into insistent desperate eyes.

Todd suddenly burrowed his head in the crook between shoulder and neck. Groaned, "If it is all true... what do you do with it? With the hate, _mari, _where does it go? You come and go, you're gentle, you seem well... Where? Where is it?"

"I don't know," he insisted, putting his hands on Todd's shoulders, sadness and resignation in his voice. Something unshed though lurked behind the not knowing.

Todd grabbed the hoodie's front again, slammed Rico against the wall once more, hearing him grunt from the shock, slipping on the floor. "You DO KNOW! You know! Is it kids? You like kids? Is that it? You're too ashamed to tell me?! Maybe that's where you been going all this time? Huh?! HUH?! Still in it?!"

Eyes popped open wide, Rico now fired up, cursing in Spanish, "_What? What did you say to ME?! You sick sick motherfucker!_"

He started to fight, swinging his fists against Todd's immovable body, in Spanish, yelling, "_You don't know anything! How can you say that?!" _ With those fists he tried to hit Todd's face, hit him anywhere, but couldn't because Todd had such a hold on him. Rico finally did what he had to because his lion was coming dangerously close to breaking promises. So he gathered all his strength and BAM! Headbutted him right above the eye, Todd dropping Rico and falling back. He stumbled, holding his eye, stunned into silence. He fell onto the bed, hunched in pain. Quiet, quiet except for his hard breaths.

Rico stood over him. Said in a low voice, a voice thick with sexual heat, "I do not know what you are looking for. Maybe you want to know that right now, my _cock_ is hard because I'm _seeing_ you in pain. I don't like giving it or getting it, but I like _watching_ it. And watching you like this? _I like it very much."_

Todd groaned softly, cupping his woundedness. Through his hand, he looked up at Rico, could see the bulge. Looked away, down at the grains on the wood floor.

"I get excited, _Blanco, _watching it happen which is why I went to you in the kitchen. I wanted to come so bad when you were hurting our sister. I hated you doing it but I got hard watching it. Is that what you're looking for?"

He dropped down, unafraid. A hand on Todd's knee. His face expressionless. Todd stared into those haunted dark eyes, equally as still, equally as stone-faced as Rico. Blood ran down his face from his injured eye. Felt liquid, licked blood in the corner of his mouth.

"There are many things I do, as a whore," Rico said. "Fucking in every way, taking it, giving it. But my… specialty... is the insult. The more humiliation the customer wants, the better for me. Not pain_, Blanco_… _humiliation_. The best… I piss and shit on customers who ask." He smiled, a distant, far away smile. "So watching pain happen… humiliation… Maybe that is the crazy you talk about." He paused. Got on his knees. Moved sweaty hair out of Todd's face. Ran a thumb down the red into the beard. Licked the wetted thumb.

"But maybe, _Blanco_, maybe the biggest crazy is... that I stay with you, knowing there is no future, no love that will come of it, no family, no hope for anything other than a minute of happiness when the police finally arrest Caro and your Moreno. Maybe that is the biggest _hate_ of all? What will I do after? It will finish fast now that you have help." Closed his eyes, "I will just go back to the way it was... before my lion beat me and kept me with him." Those dark eyes grew shiny with anticipatory sorrow, pain that was yet to happen. "Maybe, maybe that is what you are looking for."

Todd reached for him, not being able to help himself, overcome with too many _truths._ He pushed Rico to the hard floor, the coffee cup crashing to the floor because he hit the table. He grabbed thick dark hair in his hands and gathered up Rico into him. Rasped, "_I am sorry, mari. I am so sorry." _He held him tightly and knew that Rico was just as fucked up as he was, in other ways, that he no more had dealt with the abuse than Brandy or himself or anyone he ever knew. Cursed under his breath, living in the cold Cuban winter sunlight that poured in through the open windows.

They were so cold.

Rico rolled Todd onto his back, kissing him messily, roughly, on his mouth, tasting blood, Todd not having the energy to push him off. Taking it for all those fucked up reasons he ever let a person use his body. He was ready for it, his body easy to stir when he let everything go. When he just stopped being in control, stopped _trying_ to be in control. He did it because he couldn't fight anymore. Because who the fuck was he to say what was right or wrong? What did he know anymore about what he WANTED? At this moment, in this time, everything was shit.

_Screw the confusion… this was fucking chaos._

Rico grabbed hair in his hands and straddled Todd, kissing him harder still, feeling teeth and wetness and yielding lips and tongue, pulling him close. Todd held him by the sleeves, tightening the fabric into his fists. Rico then sat up, ripping off that purple hoodie and tee-shirt. Revealing that Catholic medal he always wore. Wondering if he really believed in God. He pulled down Todd's black briefs, exposing a stiff cock rooted in that musky nest of hair. He unbuttoned his own jeans, achingly hard. Slid them down, just enough, too much in a hurry.

He landed roughly, grinding against his lion without consideration, breathing hard, breathing noisy. They held each other breathlessly tight as Rico rocked his hips in this desperate injurious way but then wanted more so he reached down to stroke their cocks, spitting into his palm first. Todd felt that, gasping at the increased tension. Rico did it all without anything that could even be close to love because neither believed they had any right to it, nor any right to demand it.

The wood floor hurt, the planks' imperfect edges scratching Todd's back raw and he looked to the side, into the grey light of the sky as Rico humped and jerked and worked their cocks in a fevered rush. He reached up and pressed his fingers against Rico's open mouth, closing his eyes at the fiery pain of everything. He felt like he was on that raft, shifting back and forth between a distinct reliving of old old shit and sexual jaw-grinding intensity. He reached down and felt Rico's moving hand and then pushed it away, doing the touching himself. Doing what he knew well how to do. A compulsive act. A complex act.

A kind of gift.

Rico held himself up, head back, a wild animal on top, thrusting and grunting at the unexpected grip from his lion. But he slowed some, getting less hurtful, huffing that he wasn't ready to come yet, didn't want to come yet. Strange lone tears rolled down Todd's face and into his ears and he started to sink into that, started to get triggered, but then his body betrayed him, absorbing all thought. Found he needed the rhythm, needed the friction, needed to come, not caring where it was coming from. He pitched his head back, moving his hand expertly on their cocks. Rubbing his legs against Rico's. Familiarly. Then he heard...

"Choke me, _Blanco, hurry, do it, do it... I'm going to come soon... your hand is too good..."_

Just like Violet.

"No, no, I can't do that to you..."

"_Please, do it..."_

Rico took Todd's free hand and put it on his throat, rasping, "Oh now, please, oh now..."

Thoughts flew through Todd, hearing Rico begging for it, _needing_ it. So he just did it, the strain in Rico's cock telling him Rico was close. He squeezed his _mari's_ neck right above the silver chain for the swinging Catholic bronze medal, squeezing harder just as he felt the desperate thrusting into his fist. He knew how to do it, knew it was a blood to the brain thing. He pressed just right, pressing the carotids, seeing Rico struggle against losing consciousness...

_Erotic asphyxiation_.

Yeah, yeah, Todd knew now where his _mari's_ crazy _really_ went and it cut through him, right to the core. But not enough to derail anything his body was experiencing.

Rico rolled his eyes back, all his muscles tightening, not making a sound as Todd had effectively cut off all air. Ejaculate pumped out of Rico in this intensely violent yet erotic instant. Todd let him go, hearing him gasp loudly for breath.

Rico fell hard, breathing again, panting. Hands all over Todd's face, pulling his hair, huffing, "yes, yes, yes..."

What he didn't know was that he was with his perfect match.

Todd could not help but react powerfully to the wrongness, liking it more than was decent, more than his concern for Rico's or his own sanity, countering whatever sympathetic sorrow he felt. With Rico's dead weight on him, he stroked himself, his cock so hard it hurt, breathing hard, close, right there, right there, but Rico took over now and because Todd was lost in the madness and past all his lines and wouldn't say shit about it, he used his mouth in conjunction with his hand.

The unexpected wetness was so focused that Todd exploded in no time at all, coming so strongly that tears came to his eyes, his back arching, head rocking back, legs falling open. The sides of his feet scraped the floor, practically cutting skin. Where he was all light in his sleep, he was nothing but the orgasm now. Air caught in his throat, long and agonizing _white noise _stunning his mind and body, thick dark hair in his unrelenting grasp.

For a long while, the two lay in an entangled exhausted liquidy mess. The soul-encompassing _empathy_ in their tryst left them strangely warm now in the Cuban winter... strangely peaceful... strangely resigned to their deep brokenness.

_They were perhaps... unfixable._

"Do you know now where the hate has gone, _mi león?_"

Closing his eyes, Todd tried not to think too deeply on it. Controlled a sudden wish to sob for what people had done to this man… to Brandy… to himself. Even fucking Violet who needed to be put down along with all those other sick bastards he was chasing. For some people, what had happened was just kinky sex… but for Rico it wasn't. It was the hate, the crazy… essential truths.

"Yes, _mari_," he said quietly. "You do that to yourself? _Solo_?"

Whispered in Spanish, "_Yes. I have taken a belt… a scarf… I love it. I love not breathing at the final moment. It is... like your heroin. For a moment, I am not here. I am… flying._" A noise from downstairs. "Gloria is back. We should move."

"I will not abandon you here when everything is done. Please know that."

Fingers pressed against Todd's lips. "Do not... I will do what I have always done. I will not die."

"Not good enough. _No_." Goddamn tears again rolling out despite his hard work, voice cracking. "I will not leave you to fucking 'not die' here. I did it before. Not gonna happen again."

Rico pressed his eyes shut. He simply could not believe. He moved and gave Todd bruising kisses, letting Todd roll him onto his back, his lion holding him in place, not letting him out, Rico whispering in Spanish over and over, _I will not die,_ hearing an echo every time, _I will not abandon you..._

* * *

><p>Jedediah got out of the taxi, heading from the street to the front door of the beach house. He could see the patio that looked out over the beach. Saw someone sitting there but couldn't make out who it was. Rang the doorbell. Gloria answered, all dressed in jeans and a thick red sweater that highlighted certain...qualities. Looking pretty as always. Her face though, said she was worrying over something.<p>

"What's going on?"

She looked behind her, whispered, "He had another, you know,… incident... today? What did you call it? Where he doesn't wake up? Eyes open… but not awake."

Jed sighed, "Disassociation."

"Yeah, lasted a long while. He's up now, real quiet."

"I gotta talk to him."

"Let me check, _chiquito_, ok…?"

She took off up the stairs, Jed coming in, shutting the door. Heard voices. In a minute she came back. "He's about to shower but says come up. Wait for him."

Jed headed up creaking stairs. The house had several bedrooms, three to be exact. One door was closed, the other open. Nice big room, just like the room Todd used. A bed with a metal frame and headboard, old-fashioned dressers, large windows. That same European flair that was all over Havana. Looked unused though.

So much light and air poured throughout the place. Jed shivered. Havana winters weren't warm. The shower could be heard. Walked past the bathroom. Headed into Todd's room.

Place was made up, looking neat. A closet door lay open. Women's clothes and shoes. Some dark looking clothes, too, looked like Todd's. Couple of hoodies though that looked like what Rico had worn the other day for the brief moment he saw him before the guy came down with no shirt on. All three were sharing this really small closet. Weird. They all slept in this room together. Like animals in a den. Weirder how few clothes there were.

In fact, that was the thing that Jed noticed right away about the whole house. His dad didn't have any real amount of personal belongings. Clothes. A stack of books by the bed. Papers on the dresser. The alcove had a smaller bed and bunch of clothes stacked on the floor. A pair of hip leather shoes. That was it. After months and months, wouldn't this place be looking more lived in? Even Brandy had her shit all over the place.

The place felt... empty. Soulless.

He glanced toward the patio, spying Rico there watching the waves, huddled into himself, dark blue cloth jacket tight, faded jeans, bare feet on the seat, knees up. Abram was next to him on the wooden planks, resting on his side, lazy as all hell. When Jed sniffed, though, the dog got to his feet. Barked. Finally. Rico looked and then turned back.

Jedediah got anxious, a bundle of nerves. Decided to just get to know the guy. If he meant something to his dad, even just a friend, well… might as well check that out, right?

He walked onto the patio. Sat next to Rico on an identical kind of chair. A small table separated them. Dark unfriendly eyes shot to him a moment, looked him up and down, then went back to the water. Not a question, nothing. Dead silent.

"So..." Jed couldn't stand awkward silences. But he didn't know what to say. "Um...how are you this fine morning... well, afternoon?"

Same eyes gazed back at him, cool expression, guarded. Irritated. Returned to the water. Despite being kind of a shit, Rico was a good looking dude. Thick wavy brown hair to his shoulders, chiseled masculine features that would make girls cream their pants, full lips, a good nose. Light-skinned with just a touch of olive. Didn't have a single blemish or any acne scars. Clean-shaven. A fuckin' perfect face. Kind of tall, too, light-weight build. Yeah, no doubt, that if Pops was going to fuck a dude, he'd pick a goddamn J. Crew model. If this possibility wasn't so ludicrous, Jed would fall down laughing.

Then another thought hit him. Beautiful Rose, Lucia, Reese. Bet Rico was a beautiful child just like them. Yeah, bet that sick motherfucker Manuel Caro thought he hit the child porn lotto with this one. He probably did. Jesus CHRIST.

That hit Jed hard. Tried not to feel… sorry for him. Made him think, though, for sure that's what him and his father had in common. For sure that connected them. Wondered if he was smart or weird or… he knew he spoke English. His dirty looks at Jed's question confirmed that fact.

"Gloria said my dad had a hard time waking up this morning," Jed said. "Went all spacy again. He really needs to see a doctor, get meds."

"That is not what he needs." That same liquid voice from last night without the heroin thrum.

"What does he need, you think?"

"Patience."

He reached to the table, pulled a cigarette from a pack and the lighter and lit up. When he reached for the cigarette, Jed could see red marks on his throat. A necklace hung down. Wore a silver ring on his thumb. Didn't offer Jed a smoke.

"You a patient guy?" Jed asked. Trying not to think of those marks on this neck.

The quiet was kind of killing Jed, what the fuck, man? "Um... hit a club in Havana after I dropped you guys off. Met a nice chick. Got the digits. Not bad for an American, yeah?"

_Nada._ He smoked. Said, "You should not have surprised him."

And there you have it. Mr. Rico Suave was goddamn pissed. What fuckin' balls. On the other hand, Jed wished he didn't agree. Truth was he felt like he really brought an un-asked-for layer of shit to all his dad was already dealing with. Sighed and rubbed his head.

"I call him... _el león_. The lion. Do you know why?"

"Not sure, dude. Um..." God, god, he hoped it had nothing to with sex.

Now those dark eyes were showing a little hate. "When lions hunt," he spat, "they take time. They see what they want and move in slow steps, closer and closer until they are on their prey and then they attack. If anyone sees them, they would not know the lion was hunting. Lions will sleep when waiting. They will rest in the shade. But they are hunting."

"Ok, look, I get what you're saying. He looks like he's dead on his feet but there's logic and I should have just waited. But I couldn't! My dad isn't well and he's been like this before and he even wanted to have the child project pulled. I had to-"

"That is not what he is hunting."

Silence. Yeah... well that was certainly true. Ultimately, this shit was about MK. Jed asked, "You don't like me much, do you?"

Not even worth a glance. He smoked, blowing white into the gray light. Clouds rolled high overhead. Rain maybe. Jed glowered, kinda done with Rico's arrogant bullshit.

"Okay, look, so I get that you're like, pissed off that I kind of fucked him up. And like you're in the know or whatever? But I know him pretty fuckin' well too and sometimes he needs to be saved from himself. And you know what? If you know him so goddamn well, why the FUCK were you doing dope with him?! He's a junkie, man! He can't do that shit!"

"I know, I have seen the marks."

"Then what the fuck were you doing?! If you seen them, you know how bad it was!"

"He was going to get high, Jedediah. It was not possible to stop it. I took the heroin from him, used some with him, put the rest in the trash. Do you still want to be a little bitch about this?"

"You know what, I'm beginning to kinda hate you."

Rico chuckled, got to his feet, tossing the cigarette. "Yeah, _cabron_? So stand up like a man and show me that shit. Show me how much you hate me."

Jed got right up. "Don't get me started, 'cause I will fuckin' hurt you."

Getting up close, Rico hissed, "Try it, _puto."_

Abram popped up, sauntering off the patio. Jed turned to see Todd in the room, standing with arms crossed, wearing his usual black with damp hair partially pulled into a tie and a quiet, unreadable expression on his face. Eyes on Jed, then not. He squatted down, petting Abram. Nose to nose. He looked tired, sad. Jed sighed. He looked beaten down. Looked to have a new busted eye. Maybe it matched the red marks on Rico's throat.

Todd closed his eyes, letting Abram caress him with his tongue, with his big head.

Rico sniffled noisily. Said under his breath words in Spanish as he stepped back. Jed breathed to settle his anger.

Todd came outside. Leaned on the railing, facing both Jed and Rico. "The hell's going on?"

Rico gazed hard and deep at _Blanco_, getting it right back. Those light eyes then dropping, saying quietly, "Get something to eat, _mari."_

_Mari. _

Rico was tall, almost as tall as his focal point. He turned and split. Todd watched him all the way out of the room. Yeah, they had some intense shit happening, for sure. They were either fucking… or beating the fuck out of each other. Jed had no goddamn idea anymore. Cold eyes landed on Jed. It had been a long time since Jed felt like Todd's child. This was one of those moments.

"The hell are you doing, Chant? Think you can keep your shit together around him?"

"Why? He was being a dick and I responded in kind."

"He doesn't have a real family. Maybe he's scared of you. Maybe you coming down here to bring me home... scares him."

Oh that did not go well. Jed spat, "Scares HIM? Well, maybe you killing off MK brothers scares ME. Maybe you fighting practically to the death out there scares ME! Maybe you making yourself sick watching child porn and messing around with fuckin' pedophiles and using heroin so much you didn't even know I was next to you when you were goddamn makin' out with that guy, maybe all that shit scares ME!"

By the time that was all out, Jed was shaking mad and tears were running down his face. "Who gives a shit about what that guy feels?! What about me, Pops?! What about that?! I am your SON!"

Todd took two steps and grabbed his kid into his arms and just hugged him tight, a hard hand at the back of Jed's neck, tight tight tight. "It's okay," he said, feeling Jed's fear and feeling him shaking with controlled sobs. "I'm sorry," Todd whispered. "I'm so sorry, Jed. I know... I know you're scared."

After a few moments, Jed pushed him away. Rubbed his face hard, plopped on the chair and held his head in his hands. Sniffling. Feeling ten years old. Or sixteen. Exactly like when he first started having dealings with his real father, exactly like when he first realized his angel daddy was crazy as fuck.

Todd squatted down. "I love you. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you and Ken are gonna help."

"I thought you weren't using."

Quiet. "I wasn't. Then I was. Got to be too much all in one day. I screwed up."

He looked at his dad, looked at those hazel eyes like his that were always filled with shadows of his true self. For as similar as Jed and Todd appeared, no one ever doubting they were father and son, those shadows always made their differences wide as the Grand Canyon.

"What's the deal with you and Rico, Pops? The fuck you got goin' on?"

Todd licked his lower lip, looked into the distance, a hand on Abram. A breeze ruffled long strands of hair. Eyes settled on the dog. Spoke softly, "I don't have an answer for you. There's a lot of shit you don't know. Shit I can't talk about, things you got no reason to know. For right now, just know I love you. That I'm still your father, that I love..." His voice cracked. "That I love my family, and by that I mean Tea, too. Nothing has changed in that." An aching whisper followed. "Nothing."

He looked away again, eyes wetting. "I'm sorry if you saw things last night you weren't ready for," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "You have seen so much, shit you never should have seen. You should never have gotten involved with me or MK. You have experienced too much in this life from the get go. I am so so sorry. I wish so goddamn bad things could be different."

Shadowed eyes gazed at Jed, wishing, hoping for understanding, getting how improbable that hope was.

"Um... well I kinda put myself in places, Pops. Not all of this is on you." They were quiet a bit, both watching Abram roll onto his back, play-biting Todd's hand.

Jed asked, halting, needing to know, "Do you hurt him... like Brandy? He had these red… marks… on his neck."

Todd felt such cutting shame that he sat back on his ass like Jed had punched him. How could he explain such a thing? Was choking Rico when he was coming the same as what he did to Brandy? Fucked up shit. No idea, no idea… no goddamn idea. A door slammed. Todd turned and watched a while. Rico walking away from the house. Not fast. Heading to the water. No shoes.

Jed picked up the pack of cigarettes and lighter and tossed them at Todd's feet. No hesitation. Todd shook a stick out and lit up and offered a smoke to Jed who shook his head. He smoked, turning to watch the waves.

"Pops, do you hurt him?"

"I try not to but some things can't be helped."

"Does he hurt you, dad? Like Brandy, shooting drugs into you, abusing you?"

"She didn't-"

"She kept you crazy. Does he do that? Gloria? They gonna keep you crazy?"

Todd was quiet, still watching the water, keeping watch on Rico who now sat on the sand. Cigarette hanging from his mouth. Tears in his eyes that finally slid down into his beard that he didn't bother wiping. Said softly, "No. They don't hurt me. Pedro brought Gloria here to help me recover. He later brought Rico to..." He eyed Jed. "I try every day to return their kindness that I don't deserve. I'm not always successful but they are infinitely patient. With me. Gloria wants nothing more than for me to get home."

Gentle words now from Jed. "And Rico? He want you home, too?"

Long quiet. Eyes on the beach. "Rico... needs patience. Like all the rest of us. You included."

"Do you love him? I mean is that-"

"Jed-"

"Just tell me you're getting something good here. Tell me this fucking place isn't just one big suicide and I will never question you again."

Todd smoked. Dipped his head, rubbing his forehead, the cigarette smoke trailing upwards. "Something good," he sighed, looking utterly benign against the railing. "Strange peace sometimes, I guess. Can't explain it. Sometimes the crazy quiets in my head. Here. Despite everything."

Jed shrugged, "Guess that's the best _good_ I'm gonna get?"

"Yeah."

Creaking steps echoed in the background. Gloria maybe.

"Will you come to our hotel? Bring all your stuff? Let us all sit and see where we're at?"

He nodded. "Sure," he said softly. Shadow in the room. Todd glanced but saw nothing.

"I love you, Pops."

"I know you do... I know."

Abram hopped to his feet, growling. Todd got to his feet, a dark look rolling across his already pained features. Jed turned to see what drew his attention, popping up, tripping to back up.

"I have lost seven men, the most recent three days ago," an obviously tormented Pedro Moreno hissed. "What are you doing, my son? Have you... betrayed me? Is their blood on your hands?"

He pulled out a gun, a rare thing in Cuba... cocked it, pointed it at Jedediah. Todd looked real hard now, able to pull out his Statesville self at the drop of the hat. Jed panted in sudden fear, real fear of that goddamn gun pointed straight at him.

"The fuck you doin' Pedro? That is my son. THAT is not what WE do."

"That is what I thought. But you have CHANGED THE GAME! So know this. I will kill him if you don't answer me, _mi hijo bastardo, El Diablo Blanco. _Have you betrayed me?!"

The breeze blew a coldness that ran through everyone, the waves rolling, a never ending noise. Reliable. Trustworthy.

A sound of forever.

**To be continued...**


	45. Chapter 45

**Caged**

**Chapter 45**

It was a moment in between moments, time frozen. He could hear the growling of Abram and could smell the animal determination coming off Pedro. Todd eyed the gun in Pedro's hand, its sleek black metal, the bony finger on the trigger, the potential for untold destruction. Namely, Jed's death. He hadn't seen a gun since Tea had pointed one at him. Since she shot him. He had wondered how he'd feel being around one. Now he knew. He remembered the kitchen, the countertop, the lights, the table… Tea at the counter. His hands had flown up in instinct, a blurry image because his eyes were on the barrel of the Glock. He remembered his sudden fear in those last seconds, fear of dying, fear of pain, and an instantaneous realization that he had lost Tea forever.

_Delgado, no, no…._

In the seconds before the bullets hit him, he knew that everything he believed in, understood to be true, everything he trusted, was gone. All that knowledge he had gained over the years… no longer applied.

He breathed in and out, in and out. Hell, maybe he thought all those things in the hospital.

Today, seeing the gun in all its glory, he was utterly unafraid… a gun wouldn't kill him, wouldn't change much even if it did, and contrary to what one might think, a gun being pointed at loved people by an angry man, he knew that Pedro wouldn't kill Jed or anyone else. Nothing he knew before, applied. Everything in _La Habana, Cuba_ was opposite of its expectation.

Although… this, Pedro standing in front of him, standing in the doorway, grey light everywhere, THIS was expected. Todd worked hard to resist a smile because Pedro Moreno was exactly where he was intended to be: aware that his carefully appointed world was changing and changing fast. Pedro… was disoriented, Pedro, unlike Todd, was very afraid.

_My my. Gets me hard seeing such fear, such… disorientation. Tell me, are you disoriented at home, my friend?_

"_Padre," _ Todd said in Spanish, his voice low and growling just like Abram, "_please put the gun down. Let us talk like men. My son is an innocent."_

Pedro shook his head, speaking English, "Don't try to be… the gentleman, _Blanco._ It offends me. My men… men who served me for over thirty years, forty… you have gunned down like cockroaches with your ways-"

"Point that gun at me. Do it. If you think I am responsible, point the gun at ME." His voice kept that same threatening rumble. A subtle touch of Spanish to his English. When Pedro still aimed at Jed, Todd hit his chest hard with his hands, a whole lot of power and rage breaking through the peace, and shouted, "Point it at ME!"

Pedro did. Whipped the gun around and aimed straight at Todd who took a breath, almost gasped, and nodded, murmuring, _"así, así… es correcto, mas mejor, no?"_

Jed flinched, simultaneously relieved and newly afraid for his father, the memory of him in the hospital on the edge of death too recent. He glanced down at the beach, saw Rico standing, looking up at them on the patio. Eyes now at the house, heading to the house, galloping. Thought about how to derail Pedro but that gun in his hand made everything dangerous. No sudden moves, right?

"I am loyal to you, _Padre… _Do you understand that?" Todd purred, moving forward, eyes on Pedro's, hands out. The limp in his walk made him seem… cocky. A risky tack, but then… his limp wasn't in his control, his cockiness an inevitable truth. As he walked, he stripped his shirt, dropping it to the ground, his body screaming Statesville, emitting a certain… unkillable quality despite vulnerable bare skin. Jed could see the bullet wounds on his back. Two of them. If one marked the trajectory of those wounds… the bullets had travelled through lungs and should have hit his heart.

_I am immortal._

"Seven men, my son…" The deepened lines on Pedro's still-handsome face showed heartfelt distress, his eyes rounded, his mouth turned down. Even Jed could see that he had aged in the past months. He wore fine clothes, much finer than any on the island Jed had seen, but all that nicety didn't cover up the fact that Pedro Moreno, the King of the Mambo Kings, was shaking now, sweating now, as he stood a good couple of inches shorter than _El Diablo Blanco_. Pedro appeared bested, shrunken. His face showed that he was in the presence of real danger, a true threat. His eyes dropped to the new ink across this monster's belly.

"You have marked yourself," Pedro said.

"Yes. On my back I have the name of my new salvation… _La Habana, Cuba._ I have spilled blood for MK to proclaim my devotion, my commitment, my HONOR. How can you even question me? I would never harm an MK brother. I would never harm YOU." Todd did not shift his focus, now only a foot away from Pedro. "I have no interest in being king, _Padre, _you know that. I have always stayed true, stayed on one path."

By now, Todd was mere inches from the barrel of the gun.

Pedro studied _Blanco, _the war in his own head obvious, intense. He was afraid, yes, but he had grown to love the monster in front of him as a son.

"_Blanco! I trusted YOU!"_

Slowly, Todd reached for the gun, gently putting his hand on the top of it. He pulled the gun, Pedro's hand still on it, and pushed the gun's barrel against his chest. His lips parted as if it was a lover. A tongue licked his lower lip. Pedro was almost mesmerized, eyebrows knitted, eyes looking at the gun against skin. Then up at hazel eyes. At the scar that cut across his cheek.

"My son…."

Todd, voice silky, said, "If you believe I have betrayed you, kill me. Pull the trigger." Whispered, "Pull it, _Padre."_

The old man stood there, eyes on the gun then up. There was real pain in his voice because he spoke as a father, as a mentor, as a GOD to his son. "Have you betrayed me, _Blanco_?"

"What do your eyes tell you?"

"My eyes?! My HEAD tells me this is YOU. You are killing the old guard… YOU."

"Then listen to that. You must kill me."

"I don't want to! I don't! But what choice do I have?! MY MEN! The oldest… all gone! Leaving nothing but men YOU have put into place. It must be YOU! It can only be YOU!"

"Then you have decided." Todd got to his knees. Bent down, bent low, hands flat on the hardwood floor, and kissed the shoes of Pedro.

Pedro practically wept, "You betray me with a kiss… so said Jesus to Judas."

Todd murmured, "I am no Judas, but I am your disciple. You are KING, the only KING. I give my life to you to prove my loyalty. I give my beating heart to you." He was on his knees again, putting his arms out to his side in complete submission, palms up, eyes on Pedro's. Offering himself up, a willing death.

"Kill me," he said, the gun mere inches from his heart, Pedro standing tall now, a growing strength in it.

Jed could no longer trust Todd's grand manipulation, if indeed that's what it was, and said hell with sudden moves, yelling, "NO! NO!" Abram barked now, barking wildly. Jed sprinted towards Pedro because goddamnit there was no fucking way that asshole was just going to kill his father like so much trash, but just as he reached the wide open doors, just as Pedro… turned the gun towards Jedediah or Abram or the chaos, Rico came out of nowhere and body-slammed Jed to the ground. A bullet shot from the weapon, wild through the air above the men's heads… wildly out the open doors, an echo disappearing into the grey sky.

Abram got hold of Pedro's leg with his powerful bite, Todd doing his own work, ramming into the old man getting him to fall backwards. Pedro screamed bloody murder because Abram wouldn't let go of his leg, growling like mad. The gun slid away and Jed scrambled to his feet, managing to grab the gun. Rico got to his feet, Jed holding the gun tight and aiming square at Pedro Moreno. Huffing in intense relief.

Everyone was still…, a moment in between moments.

Todd grabbed Abram by the collar, the dog finally releasing Pedro. He squatted down low, petting the dog, calming him, rewarding him. All eyes on the agonized man on the ground.

"You bastard," Pedro groaned. "You fucking bastard."

Standing over Pedro, Todd said, "My apologies for the protection my loved ones give me. I was giving you my life, but they would not have it." He looked at Jedediah, the corners of his mouth lifting in the barest of smiles... his eyes light, alive, a real hellish fire there… Rico stood next to Jed. He had known the manipulation, had trusted it. He leaned close to the anxious Jed, whispered, "Quiet, let him talk. Do not be afraid." Jed shook his head, needing someone to hold his own leash.

"You… you… will die," Pedro said. Up now, sitting and rubbing his leg.

"If you think I need to, I will gladly die… I will send my loved ones away. I will let you kill me. Because if I must die, I'd consider it an honor if it were done by YOU."

"I don't believe you."

"I have lived here for months as YOU WANTED. I have embraced _Cuba, para usted, _in your name, for you, _para Los Reyes del Mambo…_ I have left my family, my wife, my beloved newspaper… I have left everything I know FOR YOU. I have sacrificed everything in my life for MK. What more can I give other than my beating heart?"

Pedro glanced at Jed, Rico. The whore had thrown himself at the son, his devotion obvious, not done at _Blanco's _request or command. Rico had seen the gun and protected the child of his lover. A son's love had moved young Jedediah. The dog… had only done what he was trained to do. Gloria remained downstairs, safe, quiet, doing what she was instructed. To just wait. Her loyalty did not seem as blind as that of Jedediah and Rico. Perhaps he could learn truths from her? Pedro was weak, his mouth a downturned slash of misery, disorientation. He groaned in pain, holding his leg. "I don't know…anything."

Todd got close to Pedro. "What more can I do?"

Pedro looked into those eyes. Tried to divine the truth. Tried to see the lie. But today, his son's brilliance at playing the game of angel or devil was a great problem. He simply… did not know. "Find who is doing this to me."

"I will and I will deliver him to you."

Pedro reached a hand to the black ink. Eyes on Todd's. "You have either committed or are declaring YOURSELF king."

"Never would I step over you, challenge you. You saved my life. You have defined me. Had I wanted to be King, I would come to you directly."

Pedro rubbed his leg, blood seeping down into his socks. The pain was considerable but did not break him. He could tolerate much. "If not you, who?"

"Who would gain from you losing?"

While Pedro was lost in this question, Todd turned to Rico with a blank dark expression. A slide up and down Jed's body. An evaluation of healthfulness. A directional nod, motioning Rico to get Jed out. Rico grabbed Jed by the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him away. Taking Abram with him. Todd held a hand out while still focusing on Pedro, rasped, "Gun." Jed handed him the piece and Todd stuck it into his waistband. The two left, Rico still holding onto Jed's arm, Jed jerking out of his hold and snapping in his typical way, "Get the fuck off me…"

"Let us have a drink, let us talk," Todd said after a minute or two. "We'll call the doctor. Fix your leg. Do not hold this against Abram. He does not know the difference."

"I am bereft, my son."

"Am I still that, your _son?"_

"Yes," Pedro croaked, deciding in this very moment that the readiness, the eagerness, the show of loyalty was proof enough for now. It was all he could do. He had nothing else. Rolon had brought him only speculation. The evidence was clean. Random shootings, muggings. Convicted felons admitted to the murders. One said he had particular hate for MK because he was former Irish Dirty Riders. Another targeted the Mercedes he drove. Yet another was a drug addict, dripping nose, shaking, sweating the heroin, desperate for cash. The others were from legitimate rival conflict over Pedro's men's seeking more territory already claimed. The last… the last was the most painful. Henry Granda. He had committed suicide. A gun to the head. No evidence of any stranger. Even a note in his handwriting.

This left Pedro on his own. _Blanco _had more than sufficient alibi… healing in Cuba. Pedro's own spy assured him that his son was busy in the Cuban life - dug deep into the club fights, drinking to his heart's fulfillment, visiting other whores in the bars but deeply attached to Gloria. Many times she was seen greeting him at the door, embracing him. On more than one occasion the two were on the patio, in the dead of night, fucking openly. Rico continued his work as a whore… continued to mingle among his people even though he'd been pulled from his old pimp by _Blanco._ The spy said Rico was loyal, though, always returning to the house at night, most likely servicing _Blanco _in the cover of darkness. Their connection was never seen during the day, unlike his and Gloria's. But most importantly, _Blanco _was with Manuel Caro and his enterprise, learning the business of child trafficking. All this told Pedro that _Blanco_ was deeply entrenched in Cuba. His working of MK was done through Rolon. There was absolutely nothing connecting Rolon to any of the killings either. He was the same, always the same. Solid MK, solidly serving Pedro.

No, there was no hard evidence of betrayal, but Pedro had instinct. And instinct SCREAMED betrayal. He gazed at his son. Unsure, but having to abandon his battle. Today.

Todd got to his feet, held a hand out. "Come, _Padre. _Gloria will mend your wound. She is good at that. We will have a drink over dinner. Gloria will make the house warm and welcoming. You will rest tonight."

Pedro stood, his eyes pained. Eyed the body of Todd. "You are well, then."

"I am…surviving. MK is well. It is thriving despite the crippling deaths."

"Is it? My private business is suffering, my son."

"Is there a reason?"

"I cannot tell. I am… bereft. In mourning. Perhaps… it is that."

Pedro limped out the bedroom door and Todd walked to the patio. Pedro was unarmed so he was not worried. He studied the water rolling in after spotting the bullet hole in the patio floor. It filled him with sickness, hate burning the back of his throat. He had appeared to ignore Pedro's attempt to shoot Jedediah, the bullet narrowly missing him thanks to Rico, he himself nearly being a fatality. He would not forget this day. He lifted his eyes to the sky, shutting them to the raindrops beginning. Water wetted his skin and he rubbed it into the color on his chest, fingertips grazing the bullet scars, feeling the light spread of chest hair. The rain tasted like peaceful waiting. He did not address the wrongs Pedro had committed in this house because of course, revenge is patient, quiet. Lions sometimes look like they are sleeping when in fact they are hunting. An unexpected contrary truth, in Cuba.

Rico came up behind him, laying an arm heavy on his shoulder, brotherly. The two watched the waves.

"_Estás bien?"_

"_Sí." _He paused. "_Gracias, mari."_

"_Para qué?"_

"For saving his life even though you are angry at him."

He hmmd, "He is short tempered. He is naive. He nearly got himself killed."

"Well, he called you a dick. Fair play, yes?" Rico did not respond. "What is Jed doing?"

"He is brooding in the main room, with Abram at his feet. While Glo tends to Pedro in the kitchen. She… is nervous around Pedro. Asked me how long he'll be staying."

"I'll watch him. Don't know what he plans."

"_Blanco, can you really watch him? Do you trust him? In this house? When we sleep. He wanted to kill your son. Why would he spare us?"_

Why would he spare a couple of worthless whores? Good question. "We have no choice for the moment. I will protect you. As long as he is in this house, I will not sleep."

Todd closed his eyes, feeling Rico touch the raw spot on his back. The rubbing on the floor. Heard him say softly, "You did it just right. Today. Earlier. You have done that before." He pressed warm lips on the damaged skin.

Shuddering at the closeness, too many confused feelings stirring in the depths of him, Todd turned away, pushing him away, needing to shake him off. Had he done it before? Done it the right way… before? He knew from reading about it… he'd done it to Brandy but she didn't like the high like Rico did, didn't want it the _right way. _She liked the pain of her trachea being compressed. Completely different. She liked submitting to dying at his hands. There was no erotic pleasure for her. He felt sick at the recollection. But there was something else lurking in the sickness. Echoes poked at him. Other faceless voices…

_Knowing everything, knowing all truths. _

_What fucking truths?_

He closed his eyes, white bliss threatening him. Closing in on him. He grunted softly at the sudden static in his head. Rico pressed hands against his cheeks, calling his name from far away. Todd gazed at him, blinking, coming awake. He had slipped away in an instant. Didn't want to think about it right now. THIS… scared him. Said, "I am afraid for you. Where your crazy goes."

Rico crossed his arms, stood in a silent space, saying nothing for a long while. He touched Todd's hair, taking strands at the side and braiding a long braid into the hair. Mixed in with the rest. Todd was patient. Letting him. Then, in a soft tired voice, Rico said, "When you talk like that, you, _Blanco, _confuse ME. You…do something to me I do not understand. Everything was fine… before you. I understood everything. I don't understand anymore. I am confused."

"Welcome to the fucking club." He shook his head, grabbing Rico's sleeves. "Promise me you will stop. If it's not me, it will be someone else, or your own hand, and it will kill you. One day someone will not stop choking you, one day you will lose awareness and forget to loosen the belt or the scarf. That shit is dangerous. Don't do it anymore. PROMISE ME!"

"Who will care, _mi león_?"

"I will. Don't fucking do it. Don't ask me to do it either… I do it too easily..." He was ashamed suddenly. Admitted a sickening truth, "I like it too much. Did you not see it? And one day… maybe I won't stop at the come. Maybe I will want to end you."

"You won't do that. I trust you. I believe you when you say you care. Why you care… is a mystery, but I believe it."

"Maybe I don't want to care about you. Maybe I hate caring about you. Maybe I will want to stop the caring."

Rico dug his hands into his pockets. A sad sorrowful smile on his face made him look childlike. Stood again in silence. Felt Todd run a hand down his arm. The touch stopped.

"I care, Rico… whether I want to or not. Promise me."

Rico shrugged, "I cannot promise it. I need it." He breathed and watched the waves. "It keeps the dreams away."

"Dreams of Caro," Todd said. That made sense. He hated it. Fucking CARO and Moreno and every other pedophile who created thousands of children just like himself and Rico and Violet and Brandy… every year. Every day. The white bliss, the static got quickly replaced with hate. A ready thing. An easy thing. Todd growled like Abram. Knowing Moreno was downstairs.

Rico broke the silence with a gasp. "Ah! CARO! _Blanco, _Caro is around, asking for you."

Todd stepped back, a little taken at the sudden shift. "Where? When?"

"Yesterday at the bar. The man I was with, the one you beat… he said there is a party. They want you there. Business to decide. At Elon's place. Tonight."

"And when the FUCK did you plan on telling me that?"

He pulled a card out of his jeans pocket. "I forgot. Call this number. Perhaps you will take Pedro? Do not leave him here, okay?"

Todd took the card. Stuffed it into pocket. He pulled the gun out of his waistband. Studied it. Felt its weight. Small semi-auto. Looked new, had its numbers scratched off. Slid the cartridge out, figuring it was full'a fuckin' bullets. Yup. Closed it all up. Stuck the piece back, liking the feel of it against his skin. Same as Tea's maybe. What did he know? Didn't know shit about guns. If he left Pedro behind, he'd leave Jed here with the gun. He knew how to shoot. He'd give Jed full authority to kill that bastard if he dared touch anyone. Cleared his throat. "There might be children at Elon's. I cannot go there and leave empty handed. Won't do it."

"What will you do?"

He breathed in deeply, reached to Rico, putting a hand behind his neck. He brought him in close, eyes on his face, lips. Back to those haunted dark eyes. Said in a low growling voice, his light eyes full of hate, "I will burn the _fuckin' _house down."

* * *

><p>Tea Delgado Manning glanced at her round belly, breathed… just to breathe. Slammed closed the door to her sleek black BMW and sauntered towards Rolon's garage, her full ass switching back and forth like a slow-moving pendulum. In this sixth month of pregnancy, she wore dresses, soft black chic maternity dresses. Top of the line as always. Wore black nylons with knee-high boots. Still got the heels though. Her hair had grown past her shoulders, full, brown, silky. Men still looked. She pulled tight her billowy grey coat. This winter had been a cold one. She came a'calling on Rolon Lopez because things were happening in MK that had finally hit the newspapers. No connections made yet. Bo phoned her, though. Reeks of Manning, he said.<p>

_I believe, hands down, he's on a tear to gain control of MK and Moreno doesn't even know it. He seems convinced of Manning's loyalty which is no surprise because this is Horenda all over again. No evidence pointing to Manning… and even if we establish a nexus, he'll slam any possibility of conviction by coughing up more on this child porn ring. He has too much to offer the government. He's always going to have one up on us. _

_So why are you talking to me?_

_Tea… this war with Moreno will get him killed. Be on notice. Be prepared. _

She had to hang up. Vomited. What had she done? MY GOD. She could not hide anymore. She HAD to take responsibility for her actions. To use the excuse that the night had traumatized her, that HE had traumatized her… well, that did not work for her anymore. Seeing the sorrow in Lucia's eyes haunted her. Feeling the emptiness of the house, haunted her. She had killed _Todd Manning_. She had killed the love of her life. She'd wanted _Blanco_ dead, yes, yes, crazy thinking, but of course, in the end, only Todd died. Todd was the same as _Blanco._ And now, the monster in him… was alive and well and screaming mad.

_The Mad Mad King… _

She had known that the crazy hate was real in that letter and Jed had confirmed it. Now Bo. She breathed in again. Dug in deep. LIfted dark cold eyes towards the MK garage, the snake pit. Remembered who she WAS.

_Soy La Reina Puertorriqueña. He may not know it, may not understand it, but I am his queen. Always will be. If he is making a move to capture MK… _

_But he has another woman, La Reina... _

_Doesn't matter. This lover might have his cock, his hands, his eyes, even his heart, but the lover will never have his soul. This... I know. His raging insanity tells me so. He would not be doing this but for my great betrayal. He woke up alone… and decided to burn down the house._

_La Casa de los Reyes del Mambo._

The rolling garage door was open and several men worked on their beloved classic cars. She stood a bit away, searching for the man himself. Shadows had begun to move in, night coming in, slipping into her. She fought the darkness beating within. Since Jed left for Havana, since he told her what state of crazy he'd found his father in, she'd found herself sunk into a state of deep and profound _guilt_. From there, she had an agonizing conversation with Dr. Tim Graham. With his words, he'd shot her straight between her eyes. She'd called him in a moment, a moment early in the morning. Crying into the phone.

_Will you speak with me? Do you hate me for what I've done? Do you? _

_I do not hate you. I know how complicated your relationship is with him. I know he is involved in terrible things. You must have been so upset, scared. I read of the battle in Mr. Gannon's club. I don't hate you, my dear friend._

_He's ill, Tim, in Cuba. Jedediah is there. Says he's worse than ever. Raging. Hating. Said he's very similar to how he was in Statesville. Said he is absolutely having dissociative events. Stopped taking seizure meds so he's having seizures. Said he's living with two people… both prostitutes. Like Brandy, only… this time it's a man and a woman. Using heroin, of course! He is so… sick! _

Tim had been quiet for some time. Offered a heavy sigh before he spoke. His voice had sounded weighted.

_I'm going to say something that I need you to listen to without judgment. This is not any kind of absolution for him or his acts, either. This is just what I see, believe. Okay? _

_Yes, yes..._

_You say he is living with a male prostitute?_

_Yes._

_Okay. Tea, the shooting was a critical, plane-shifting event. Not to put blame on you... but you must understand that it represented a powerful and violent act of female rejection. And not just any female. Someone he viewed as a safe place, a person who ultimately would always be… safe for him. The last one to do that was his mother, leaving him to be abused by his father. Unfettered abuse. No more eyes to see what was being done to him. _

_Tim…_

_I don't say this to pile guilt but to explain... where he might be right now. Why he might be living with a male prostitute. Why he might be comforted by someone… other than a woman. Tea, something more… he never finished therapy. Statesville and heroin cut everything off. You say he's disassociating? I suspect something… terrible. What is triggering him?_

_Triggering him… _Tea told him everything about Juarez, about Manuel Caro. His work in Cuba. Tim groaned and cursed.. completely out of character... it scared her.

_Jesus fucking CHRIST. Seeing child pornography? IMAGES? Jesus. Oh no, no, no…_

_What, what? Tim…._

_Listen to me. I am breaking confidence, complete violation of my ethics. But right now I don't care. You need to do something to get him home. Tea, his father never stopped sexually abusing him. Todd believes it all ended when he was nine. Mother walked out… everything ended. It ended he said. Then five years later, he was raped? I have never believed that to be true. It made no sense. Too many indicators that his father… Violet was a huge catalyst to new memories. I saw it but he left before we could get there. He is remembering and it could be very very serious, catastrophic maybe. That is why he is disassociating. He does not WANT to remember. The last time the truth came to him… he was in a hospital. Protected. Safe to remember. He is far away from protection. This is… fucking dangerous._

He had sighed again, the breath full of pain, like he didn't have the energy to say more. He was so sad at the end of their conversation.

_He should never have been permitted to take that on. So so dangerous. Be prepared, Tea, for very… unexpected things._

He didn't say much more. There was no easy fix. He was in trouble. Prayed he'd find his way home before the truth hit him square. Ended the conversation. The hanging up of the phone sounded… bereft.

This was on her. This… was… on… HER. She could practically feel his shouts, the heat from his temper. She could see his face, those light eyes filled with so much darkness and pain, his long hair streaked with wild unruly grey, fury vibrating throughout his body. She had committed such an unforgivable betrayal no matter the justification. To him, there would be no such thing. She had BETRAYED HIM!

He wouldn't even realize he felt that way. He'd excused her… but deep inside… he hated her now. She… had killed him, had cut him off... she had abandoned him just when he was beginning to see terrible truths. What had she done?

_His one safe place in this terrible, terrible world. He believed himself to be truly alone now._

She saw Rolon and he saw her, that sly grin breaking his usually hard features. He looked at the men and headed towards her. He was tall, broad-shouldered, muscular. Probably could and _would_ drown kittens. He wore a loose Cuban _guayabera_ over a black tee-shirt, all over old worn jeans and work boots. He had short black hair, mocha skin, strong masculine features, not ugly, and loads of male attitude originating in years of MK life, Statesville… he was not to be messed with. At his side, he carried a blade in a sheath.

"_Mamita… preciosa… what are you doing here?" _ He had light green eyes that made him appear to be looking through her. She trusted him to be Todd's right hand. It was instinct. Too often he was ready to throw over Pedro. This was real. So she spoke right from her gut.

"You and I never had our talk," she said. "I want that talk. I want honesty. I know it's not in your DNA but I want it anyway. Is Todd making a play to be leader of MK? Is he in a war with Moreno that Moreno is not aware of?"

He turned to look behind him, checking for a clear coast. The smile faded, his lip lifting ever so much in the corner. A look of a dog baring his canines. His eyes focused on her mouth. "And why… why would I ever tell you such a fuckin' thing, _mama?"_

"Because if he is… I want to help. I want to make sure it's CLEAN. Do you understand me?"

He huffed, checked her out. Quiet some moments. "You shot him, and now... _usted quiere ayudar?" _He laughed though, chuckling deep, the sound almost musical… "_Tiene cajones, Tea Delgado... I'll give you that. _My god…" Eyes roved her body.

He leaned in close to her, smelling of whiskey, cigars, a day's work, whispering, "It is only because of me that you are safe." He knocked his head back, said quietly. "Manning has loyal men… when they heard what you did… they wanted revenge. Because he could not _talk_ for nearly three days, I protected you. I said any man who moves towards you will be out of MK and will have to answer to me." He smiled. "And HIM. I made sure the loudest seeker felt my truth. I continue to watch you… watch over you... _y su nido de chiquitos, including the one yet unborn."_

She eyed him, felt heat coming from him, felt it in inappropriate places thanks to hormones. If she closed her eyes, his energy was like Todd's. Shook her head to clear the madness. She considered his protection of her. What did he want in return? Men in Statesville don't offer protection without demanding something in exchange.

"Of course you watch me. You think I have not noticed?" She paused. "So answer me… is he moving in on Pedro Moreno?"

He snorted, sniffed. Green eyes on her, boring into her. "Yes. He is out for blood, _mamita._ Started with _Los Serranos._ Continuing with the men most loyal to Moreno. One by one, knocking them down."

_Jesus._

"How many more are there?"

"None. Seven men have died. _Blanco _has… done well. But he is not finished."

She got her poker face on. Hissed, "What remains to be done?"

"Take out Irish leaders, then cripple Moreno himself. Cripple the pet income streams belonging to Moreno alone. Make him _feel_ alone. Manning says, _disorient him._"

Tea had to turn away from him because she felt her husband next to her, his hate, his determination. His crazy.

"Why not just kill Moreno? That's what the animals do in the jungle. They don't leave competition alive."

Rolon grinned, studying her face, eyes on her lips again. "_Blanco…_ believes death is too good for him, now. He has his reasons. He does not share. I don't care to know. Whatever he sees, believes… I am behind him."

"You haven't always been. You wanted him dead."

"_Madre de dios…"_

"What? Oh I'm sorry… was I judging you for your attempted murder of my husband? The way you were judging me for what I've done?"

Rolon shook his head, "I am loyal. To the death. I understand things now. I did not understand before."

"And how the hell do I know that? How… do you prove your loyalty to HIM? NOW?"

"By protecting you. Your children."

She glanced away, then looked into those green eyes. "Legitimacy… where is he on that?"

"We are only halfway there. We still have a ways to go. Hard to leave. MK was built on gambling, cocaine, heroin, guns. We have left guns. The rest is still present. The people rely on us to continue our supply."

"Give me paperwork, Rolon. I want to look at the corporate set-up. The laundering plan. Whatever you have. I want to see where we can clean up. And I want your brain… what you know. What he has planned. I want to know what other rivals are problems that he might have his sights set on, I want to see who can take on remaining illegal operations. I want to protect… _Blanco_… from them. From all of them. From himself."

He studied her, reached to her hair but she jerked back, appalled. He laughed quietly. "Are you sure you are ready for it?"

"I have decided. I need to do this, Rolon. I need… to protect him."

He sniffed. "And what if he is not waiting for you at the end?"

"It makes no difference. I have decided."

"Have you? You know he is not alone _en La Habana_. Word is he has two lovers living with him." Whispered, "One gotta dick."

She put her head back, laughed incredulously. "And? You think that makes me jealous? Shocks me?" Her smile left, and she grew ice cold. "Such gossip from your _mouth_ puts your loyalty in doubt, weakens him as a leader because MK is not what you'd call progressive._.. Cierra la puta boca..._or you might be considered a Moreno supporter. And so far, they are not faring very well. _Usted_ _me entiende, Rolon?"_

He nodded, evaluating her. She was... unafraid. Showed her massive _cajones. _Had just told him to shut the fuck up or he'd find himself dead. She had her own people who could do it. The Posse had their quiet ways.

"Come tomorrow," he said. "Same time. I will have work for you to look at."

"You want me to come here alone, at night. Be alone with you. HERE."

"Are you afraid, now?"

She snorted, "I am afraid… of very few things. And you… are not one of them. However, I have children, I am pregnant. I am without Mr. Manning in my life. I can't take unnecessary risks."

"He will know you are with me. You will speak to him."

That shut her up. She was not ready for that and neither was he. "NO. He cannot know this. I will tell you when he needs to know."

"Then… I suppose you will have to trust me." He grinned, full lips… rough stubbled face. Ink on his neck…

"No. Come to his attorney's office. Meet me there. At six p.m. tomorrow." She dug into her pocket. Flipped him a business card.

She turned at that, unlocked the car door. Got inside. Drove away through the alleys of the complex. She could see Todd in the rear-view mirror, cold eyes on her. She could feel his pent-up energy. She could feel his arms, his back, his legs… pinning her down, not letting her breathe. She could _feel_ the hate as he shoved himself inside of her without love. She recalled too easily his fist… he WAS once again in his fourth year in prison. And at great risk for losing his mind completely.

Something hit her. Awareness? A dawning? What did Tim say? _Powerful and violent female rejection. Plane-shifting. Finding comfort in the male prostitute. _She did not know why she thought it. Call it female instinct. Call it love and intimate knowledge. Tim had skipped over specific details.

Two things.

First, the woman he lived with was in danger. If he felt rejected by his one last safe place... he'd regress. No doubt the woman had already felt his special kind of hate for women.

And secondly, those braids in his hair that Jed described at the airport... she breathed in and out, in and out. His female lover did not put them there, the other one did. The male prostitute that Jed had mentioned in his panicky testimony to her of what he'd found in Cuba. The one Todd would turn to because he was desperate to feel _something_.

He didn't use men in prison because he simply wanted human touch... He _chose_ to use them because he'd feel things beyond his norm, he'd feel the deserved abuse again, he'd feel...

_Unexpected things. Such as… unremembered truths._

A deep cutting pain bloomed inside of her, up through her, sliding down her cheeks. Not jealousy or shock but overpowering sorrow. She had left him to be tortured by Peter Manning all over again.

This... was... on...

HER.

She pulled over and found herself in tears. She let herself cry for a few minutes, soul-wrenching heartbreak. Then stopped. No, no… he needed her. He needed her strong, tough. Able to handle whatever he was throwing up into the world. All his rage and hate and crazy. She would be there. Like before. When he was well she could move forward. She could complain of his badness and how he ruined her life, etcetera, etcetera. She could leave him to whatever lovers he needed to live in this world. When he was well, she could kick his ass for having gotten himself into this deep pile of shit in the first place. For Horenda, for letting himself get caught up in Statesville. But all of it came from one place: Peter Manning.

Until then… she would be there. His queen would play her part. He would learn his safe place hadn't gone anywhere.

Her own redemption.

**To be continued...**


	46. Chapter 46

**Caged**

**Chapter 46 - Be warned. Very dark, violent.**

He clicked the lighter, once, twice, the shit not catching. Finally, a flare sparked and he hunched, lit his cigarette. Stretching out his long legs, cigarette dangling in between his lips, he shoved the lighter into his jeans' front pocket. Tossed the pack that had fallen to the floor back onto the coffee table. He inhaled deeply, a tongue running along his teeth as he released the smoke. He needed calm but couldn't seem to get there. Too many thoughts screaming in his head.

He watched Elon de Losa and Manuel Caro across the room, deep concern on their faces as they asked Pedro how he was doing, how he was faring following the slaughter of his men. Pedro did not look at Todd as he went through the stories of each man. The seeming randomness of the deaths. The rocking of the MK empire. Elon showed the requisite outrage as did Caro.

Pedro gave a quick side glance, contemplative. Returned to his mournful chat.

Todd eyed the staircase from his perch by the window. Purposely apart from the others, hoping that the distance would prevent them from sensing his simmering madness. Followed the trail upstairs. Bedrooms up there. The house was the same one he'd been in before… where he saw the little girl. Little girl in a sunny dress, reaching for Abram. He breathed in the smoke, liking the burn in the back of his throat. Abram was at the beach house and now Todd thought it was a big mistake to have left him. With the heel of his hand, he rubbed his forehead. Shit was wrecking him. Had a hard time letting go of the feel of Rico's neck and its direct connection to his cock. Kept stretching out his hand. Making a fist. Over and over.

Worse though, far far worse... he could not let go of Pedro's near-miss of Jedediah. The event seemed to grow bigger as the hours passed. The risk bigger, the closeness of the bullet closer. Kept reliving the moment. The sound of Jed's grunt as he hit the ground… the echo of the single shot, the bullet hole on the patio. Everything blended with Rico's silence as he came wildly, an orgasm completed by being strangled. Todd huffed. Dug a fist into his thigh. Running it hard all the way to his knee. Hate, fear, and sexual excitement mixed into one ugly cocktail. The gun in his waistband dug into his lower back and for one second he thought to bring it out, shove it under his chin, and pull the trigger.

He could jerk off right now just as easily.

_Fucking fucking HELL._

He drank down the rest of the whiskey. Poured another. Wondered why he bothered with a glass.

The afternoon had inched slowly along. Pedro had needed a couple of stitches from Abram's bite. The old doctor was quiet and cool, stitching… Pedro had been equally quiet and cool. Everyone was. Gloria had cooked traditional Cuban _ropa vieja, _serving it over white rice with a healthy side of black beans. They drank a lot of wine in a choked silence. Todd cornered Jed at one point, getting him out the front door. Get to the hotel, he growled, and don't fucking leave. _We'll talk as soon as possible._ A hard look… something brewing in those light eyes and in the tight grip on Jed's arm.

_What can I do?  
><em>

_Nothing. Wait. Go back to the hotel._

_Pops… come on.  
><em>

A long pause. A hushed question.

_How can we get kids out? Ask Kenny that. Ask him that. I NEED to know._

The men cleared their throats, getting Todd's attention. He glanced up, lost in his head suddenly. Fucking missed parts of the conversation, the day eating away at him. The little girl in his memory eating him like a goddamn vampire, sucking, biting his throat. Making him...

FOCUS!

Pedro chuckled, "He is distracted today."

In Spanish, Elon asked, smiling, "_You with us, Blanco?"_

"Fuckin' talk."

"Okay, my uncouth friend. Let's get to business." Elon grinned and eyed Todd. "_You missed out on quite a night."_

_"I was too injured from a fight. I had to leave."_

"_It's nothing. The Canadians brought a lot of money that night. Enjoyed the new technology. We have new investors." _ He laughed heartily. "You would have left anyway - they were very open with their enjoyment! Those bastards!'

"_You said it worked flawlessly," _ Caro added.

Pedro perked up, "What new technology?"

Elon chuckled, almost gleefully, "Let me show you." He got up and walked to a massive computer monitor, high end, far better than anything available in Cuba for the general public. Grabbed a desk chair and got comfortable. He moved the mouse, the thing already on, ready for visitors. He clicked on a button and a window showed up. A pretty page, lively, colorful. Primary colors. _Childish._

The "movie" Todd had been watching for those few moments that night in this house.

The sight forced his stomach to jump into his throat. He glanced outside the window at the blackness, closing his eyes briefly, realizing that coming here was a mistake. He thought he'd be more… calm. He wasn't.

Caro grabbed another chair and moved in next to Elon. Suddenly, the box on the page expanded. A little girl on a bed. Behind her were red drapes. _The_ little girl. She smiled. Waved her hand. English with an accent. Why English? "Hello! I can see you, Manny."

"Do you, my angel?"

Fucking child porn Skype. Oh MOTHERFUCK. The little girl had a monitor in the room she was in, able to see whoever was watching her. Right now, she could see Elon and Caro on the screen. They were loving it. Whoever would pay for the service… would fucking love it. Sickening.

She had brown hair, dark eyes. She looked ten maybe… no, no, no… eight. A little older than Lucia. She seemed painfully trusting. Todd tried to control his breathing. Puffed on the cigarette. He was starting to sweat. This was live. Live.

Elon grinned, and waved. The little girl on the screen waved back, smiling. He said, "Dance for us, little beauty."

She did. She got up and danced. A little ballet, a little salsa. No music. Just dancing to the sounds in her imagination. Todd wanted to vomit. Dropped the near-dead cigarette on the floor. Smashed it with his boot. Rubbed his face and lit up another cigarette. When he looked up, Pedro was staring at him intently.

Todd caught his gaze and put his hands out. Rasped, "A goddamn goldmine." He could not control the coldness on his muscles. He could not smile or grin. "_Bravo, bravo…" _ he said, clapping his hands, loud single cracks, directing the attention back to Elon.

Caro turned and grinned in agreement and slapped Elon on the back. "Well done, my friend!"

"_They will pay thousands for this live performance," _Elon mused. "_Safe. Better than pictures. Not as risky as real life. A technician has gotten us around Cuban control. Look, look. She will do what they want with whoever they want. Another child, a man, a woman… whatever their imagination wants. All safe and secure."_

Caro purred, "Alicia, my love, take off your dress. Show us those pretty pink panties you wear."

The men stopped talking, watching, watching. "Dance some more," Caro said. He was inflamed, his breath speeding up. Todd looked down before eying Pedro who was watching, too. Not visibly excited.

Elon said, "Alicia, a visitor is coming to see you. Be nice to him."

_Alicia._

He reached for a cell phone and dialed a number, saying, "Go on in, Ivan." Put the cell down.

A door opened, the click audible. She looked to her right, out of camera range. Her mouth twisted in shyness and she crossed her arms across her chest. She looked at the camera with nervous eyes. Someone started talking to her. The little girl answered him. Todd couldn't look anymore, having to maintain by staring out the window but he could still hear the chit-chat, their voices pouring into the living room. The man laughed, a laugh that scraped Todd's insides.

"Get on his lap, Alicia," Elon said. "Don't worry. Yes, yes. Good girl."

Caro sighed… "_Jesus, we will be richer than ever. Multiple children, multiple stages."_

The two men were so focused and unaware of their own excitement that Pedro laughed at them. "My god, look at you! Both of you! Only my son… he is not affected, _eh Blanco? Not your interest?_"

"_Money in my bank account makes me hard. That… not too much."_

"_He likes the boys," _Caro said thickly.

Elon smiled at Todd, his face full of unhidden want, "That's right. I can get a boy… tonight. Older. More your style. I will take you to him later, my friend." He looked too hard at Todd. "We will be in private."

Pedro laughed quietly, shaking his head, "_You are an idiot, Elon. Blanco will not share with you._"

"Where is the girl?" Todd asked, "That's what I want to know."

Elon smiled darkly. "Why, _hermano, _she is upstairs."

Todd heard the words and had to focus hard on calmly breathing, his heart pounding, practically flying out of his chest. Up the stairs. Breathe… breathe… Huffed a ragged, "Fuckin' amazing."

They all laughed. Cackling at a joke Todd didn't get. Pedro leaned back on the sofa and lit up a cigar. "So how do you bring in the money?"

"Credit cards. A direct flow. It's beautiful, easy. Dumps into _Firenza Distribution."_ Caro sighed, proud of himself. God, a name. Todd breathed out… come on, Pedro… where does _Firenza_ dump into? Where do the profits of _Firenza_ go? Perhaps Pedro draws from those accounts. Check the payouts. His thoughts fizzled...

"_Put her on the bed, Ivan,_" Caro said. "_Touch her. Slowly. _Very good, Alicia. Keep smiling." His face was a mask of fascination, of intense study. "Doesn't that feel wonderful? So soft?"

Todd jerked at the words. Didn't know why they should bother him anymore than anything else. He rubbed his face. Drank more whiskey. Keeping distracted, keeping calm. Wishing for Abram's warmth and smiling face. He needed to _end_ what was happening but had no fucking way to do it. Touching, touching… He stared out the window, everything inside of him buzzing. His mouth was dry. He drank another shot of whiskey.

SHIT.

Elon focused on the technology. "We'll need to adjust the camera. Maybe we'll get someone to move around. This fixed camera is no good." Called out to Ivan, "_Can you move to the left, my friend. Show more of her. I'm just seeing your ass_."

It was taking everything in Todd not to jump up and kill all of them. It was taking everything in him… not to reveal what was in his head. Pedro stood, gingerly walking over and sitting in the seat next to him. The cigar's scent came with him.

"You don't enjoy this," Pedro said quietly. "I know you, too well."

"I prefer other things." Todd sighed, knowing a very easy cover. "I might enjoy the potential profits but… you nearly killed my child today. You fired that gun in his direction. If Rico had not been there..." Todd closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Turned to Pedro. "I will give up my life but not my son's."

In the background, Elon said, "_Okay, okay, Ivan… take it slower. Careful with her_."

Pedro said, "I am sorry for today. I was at my lowest. But I learned a truth. I trust you, my son, with my life, with MK. I was wrong to think otherwise."

"And I believed my family would always be safe. It is an MK ethic, no? A belief?"

"Yes, of course. Yes."

Caro said, "_That is better, take your time. She is not happy though. Her face… showing too much fear. No good. Make her feel good, you bastard, not afraid."_

Todd rubbed his face, trying like hell to stay on Pedro because synapses were firing, shit was snapping popping cracking inside his head. He looked at the screen and looked away, his stomach… flying upwards. Active abuse. Active active active…He had to stop it but couldn't. He was as powerless as she was, out on his back, tied down, tied up...

"I need to believe you," he stammered. "I am... I am afraid. For them." He choked on her name…could hardly form her name on his tongue...but out it rolled anyway like a wave on the coastline..."_Tea_... is pregnant. I have young..." Todd shifted in his seat and leaned forward, holding his head in his hands to keep the rapist's joy out of hearing range. The girl's soft weeping. He bit his tongue to the point of blood to keep himself the smallest bit in control. He could handle pictures, even film...but this was happening now.

_Fffuck_...

Pedro clapped a hand on Todd's shoulder and he jumped. "Ahhhhhh... I see. I am sorry I have shaken you, the unshakable. I am afraid, too. To watch men far stronger than me drop like flies? I am afraid."

The show was getting intense. Manuel got mad, "_Hey, Ivan! I said gentle!_" He swung towards Elon, _"What the hell is wrong with your man?! He is damaging the girl!"_

Even Pedro turned. Todd's eyes slammed to the screen. Ivan was out of control. He was... an animal. The girl stared at the camera, eyes large, her mouth open in a silent scream, silenced by terror. His breath caught in his throat. Something broke inside of him. Suddenly he could feel hands on his own throat, straps tightening on his wrists, feet scrambling against white sweat-soaked sheets. And his cock throbbed at it. The image threatened his being able to stay in the present. Something… something…

He shook his head and grunted hard, getting up. He had to get to that girl, finally yelling, "What the FUCK are you doing?!"

_Fucking HELL._

He slipped into his hate, his easy anger, a cover he could manage. Stormed to Elon and roared, "_What is the point if our main commodity is dead?! STOP HIM!"_

_"I told you he had to slow down!"_

Elon yelled at the monitor, trying to get Ivan's attention but Ivan was in his own world now. His grunts were sickening. Darryl all over again. The girl had turned away. Had long stopped her screams.

Caro hissed, shutting the sound off the webcam. Ivan could no longer hear anything, not that he'd listen. "You stupid man, Elon. _You made no effort to protect her! You don't know anything about children! You will sink this new business before it gets started!"_

"Fuck this shit," Todd growled, sprinting towards the stairs, grabbing at the gun in his waistband. He got body-slammed against the wall, though, strong arms holding him in place. Pedro. "_Tranquilo, mi hijo bastardo. Tranquilo!"_

_"He will kill a child! I'm going to KILL HIM! _LET ME GO!_ Can't… can't have a business with ruined product!" _ He yelled, "_Murdered product! _"

"_Blanco! THINK!"_

_"Let him go, Pedro," Caro groaned, "He is right. He has been with Rico and knows how good it can be when a child is preserved, taught, educated in sex. Not killed, not damaged too much. Let him take his upset out on that asshole."_

The words blurred Todd's eyes. Rico… _not damaged too much_. He bit down and squeezed the weapon in his hand. He could so easily kill _everyone_ in this room.

"Caro… he will kill that idiot. Do you understand? My son doesn't do half-way."

Elon screamed, 'NO! That is my friend - I will control him!"

"_Let me go… every second we wait…! FUCK!"_

"It's too late," Caro hissed. "Look what he's done to her. She will not perform now. Your friend has ruined her! Finish it, _Blanco._"

Elon tried to run but Caro held him back, Elon begging now, arguing uselessly. The words disappeared into the ether. Todd could not hear or understand a word. _It's too late. _All he saw were the stairs and only felt the gun in his hand. Tasted blood in his mouth.

Pedro released him. He breathed… a calm coming over him. The popping in his head lessening.

Todd hit the second story. He opened the door to the first room. Empty. The second was the place. Ivan was smoking a cigarette, naked, by the window. The little girl was on the bed, under a blanket. She was on her side and touching the drapes, disconnected in a way he knew. He rounded on Ivan, a man in his thirties, who turned and smiled at Todd. Too many teeth. He put the cigarette out on the window frame. He spread his legs, eyeing the new man with the shadowed eyes.

Todd felt incredibly light at seeing Alicia, broken, ruined, damaged _Alicia_. He felt the absence of Pedro's arms holding him back, the absence of all restraint. Free to do what he needed to do. He was ready. He studied Ivan, his arrogance, his complete disregard of the little girl. Just like Horenda.

"_Come with me_," Todd purred in Spanish. "_Come to the other room._"

"_You want her to come, too? She is primed. She'll be easy as a kitten. You will enjoy it."_

Had Ivan said anything else, Todd might have considered another route. But Ivan didn't. Todd had to control himself. He could not kill this man in front of the girl. He had some sense of humanity. "_No,_" he rasped, "…._ I saw enough. I want you now. I want you… just the way you are now. Good and fucked_." He looked at the camera. At the computer monitor. Pedro and Caro stared back at him from downstairs, Elon pacing behind them. Todd walked up to the monitor and adjusted it so the picture was solely focused on Alicia. He looked right at the blinking red-light-camera. Stepped to the side. Pedro pitched his chin up. Obviously seeing the broken Alicia. Gave a quick nod. A wave of his hand.

_Do what you want._

Ivan grinned and shrugged, not having noticed the interaction. Eyed Todd up and down. "_You want to be just with me_?"

Todd grunted a wordless yes.

"_Good,_" Ivan whispered, "_My god I would like that. Yes, yes._" He stood. Walked right up to Todd who eyed the man's downturned mouth, his forgettable face. He had short blond hair. It would be all Todd would remember of him. Ivan took Todd's hand in his. _"I will do whatever you want. Feel me. You are beautiful."_

_He is beautiful._

Todd shook his head at a strange voice in his head. Shook it away. Lost some moments. He glanced down at his hand on the bastard's flesh, his hand being used. He growled, cupping the asshole's sack, squeezing until he caused pain.

Ivan huffed, "_God, your hand, so strong_."

"_Hurry,_" Todd said, _"I am eager_." Pulled Ivan by the arm out of the room. Shutting the door.

He went into the empty room and pushed Ivan inside, slamming the door behind them, locking it. A small lamp lit the place, filling the room with a muted red. Curtains were drawn ensuring nobody would see the end of Ivan. He threw the guy on the bed, Ivan crab-crawling backwards. His cock stood out like a flag, throbbing in the air. Todd leaned against the door. Thinking, thinking. He wondered about his choices at this moment. He walked towards the bed. Stood over the rapist. He looked him from head to toe, trying to see a man. He couldn't. He saw body parts, he saw evil. He saw the images from the screen downstairs.

_She is primed. She'll be easy as a kitten. You will enjoy it._

Todd got one knee on the bed. Ivan leaned back, murmuring, "_What do you like?_"

"_I like everything,"_ Todd said, using Rico's words. He smiled, maybe, surprised his muscles could move that way. Not really sure if they had. He reached for the pillow and jerked it out from under the guy's head, Ivan thumping back on the sheet-covered mattress. Weirdly trusting, just like Alicia. He lay there in awkward discomfort, completely bare, raw. Open.

The guy lay a hand on Todd's hip. He breathed out hard, "_God… get on with it then._"

In hindsight he wished he could say he battled the decision. He didn't. Without much thought at all, without any conscience, Todd took the pillow and slammed it down on Ivan's face with both hands. Pressed, pressed, pressed. He'd wanted to use the gun but in the end prefered this way. Less messy. Less to clean up. He wanted this sick motherfucker to know he was dying.

A single boot scraped the carpet as he fought to keep the pillow flat and immoveable. Ivan fought it. Fought it fiercely. He had no strength though in comparison to his attacker. Todd didn't want to risk losing any time, so he lay on top of Ivan to prevent further struggle, embracing the flailing legs of Ivan with his own, straddling him, knees digging into the mattress. Both hands like weights on the pillow. Ivan uselessly batted his arms, a hand landing in hair, pulling long hair into his fist. Todd wanted to hurry things up so he moved a hand down to Ivan's throat, and squeezed.

_So so intimate._

"For all the little girls you have ruined… for every little boy you have ruined," he rumbled.

Images of Horenda flashed before him, Darryl, Elon, Manuel, Pedro… even Violet… and of course, the Great Peter Manning. The Great Originator. Every killer of innocents he knew and did not know. He did not care one iota for the life of Ivan… whoever he was… wherever he came from… whatever family or history he had. This was… deserving, needed.

_Divine fucking intervention - yes, yes, he was the hand of God. _

Todd groaned in a kind of miserable sickening high, not unlike the times he'd raped Marty, Carol, the two others before he tended to block out. Then and now were so deeply connected in the positioning of his body on top of Ivan and the hard work to prove his domination, that he couldn't help the sexual excitement that accompanied Ivan's struggle to stay alive… Ivan kept jerking his hips against Todd and he reacted to it, grinding his own hips in response. And all that life-and-death-affirming _movement_ in combination with his hand on yet another throat… well… it gave him a desperately wrong orgasm, desperately wrong waves wracking him from head to toe. He grunted, hunched over Ivan's body, jerking hard at each spasm. He didn't want it, didn't intend it. He was as victimized by his own body and psyche as he had ever been. He parted his lips in a final airless gasp, a thin string of saliva landing on the pillow. The sweet rolling sensation soon ebbed right along with Ivan's ebbing life.

The last kicks though shook something out of Todd's mind… marbles falling out of a leather satchel.

Something kinda new, something not so new that had been knocking around inside of his head actually.

A smell hit him when he landed heavily on top of Ivan, his breath sawing in and out, in and out, the only sound in the room, a smell as he lay his heavy head on that bunched-up pillow that had fallen to the side of Ivan's head, a carpet's musty smell. He looked at the green shag. 1970s shag.

The body beneath him was still now… still as death, Todd equally as still. An image came to him. Like a dream. Like a movie. Eyes fixed on the carpet, he watched the picture unfold in his mind. A man coming into the room… with another man. Straps on his wrist tightened, fear running deep. He could feel them...unsure what they were made of. Both wrists encased, fingers stretching and closing into a fist, over and over. He could hear himself breathing, making small noises. A kind of _uh...uh… uh…_ Cold, looking down his naked body. Strange voices seeped into the picture. No, no… only one strange voice. The other one eerily familiar.

_He's tied up._

_I had no choice. He fights sometimes, the little shit. I have to get firm with him. I have to punish him._

_Can I touch him? He is beautiful._

_That's why you're here. You wanted something in return for your business. Here he is._

_Is he… mature…. yet? He is very young._

_He is eleven. _

_Oh a fine age. But I prefer when they can enjoy it too._

_From what I have seen, felt, I think you will be his first. I have been waiting for it..._

Todd got up hard and fast. His eyes stretched wide, his mouth open in a silent scream, silenced by terror. A massive headache hit him, white bliss coming in like a motherfucking fastball and he jumped away from the bed...

...was… was… was… that real? Wha-wha-what? What? What? What is that? Imagination imagination imagination. He pressed his hands against his eyes, bent over, groaning, his voice low and gravelly. So real, so fucking real. What was that shit? The white was heading his way again and he worked to stay here, telling himself where he was, eyes madly landing on every bit of furniture in the room. He fell back on the bed but jumped up again at the feel of Ivan. Turned wildly.

The pillow… Todd reached out and pulled it away. Dropped it at his feet. Dead eyes stared upwards. He had… killed him. Not in self-defense, not in a fugue state, or out of any other legally justifiable reason. He was a monster, through and through. Of course he did it. And it was easy. So… fucking… easy.

He breathed easier now. Here again. No white bliss anymore.

He rubbed his cock, soft now. The wetness… hidden in the dark jeans. He hadn't meant that to happen, had no control. He lay down next to Ivan. Breathed in and out, in and out. He ran fingertips up the torso. Soft hairy chest. Warm still. He listened for heartbeat by laying his head on Ivan's chest. Heard nothing. Wished he had a knife. Would cut the fucker's cock off and shove it into his open smelly mouth. Like Horenda. Deserving.

"How you like me now," Todd whispered.

Wait… the girl. The girl. Wait. The girl. He got up. It was done, Ivan was done. What's done is done. That fucker got everything he deserved. He breathed in and out. What's done is done. He saw the white in the distance. Shit shit. He stared at it heading right towards him and knew if he just stood there it would flatten him so he ducked and the light seemed to fly right past him. Looked down at himself and in all truthfulness did not recognize who he saw. He looked at a mirror on the wall. Saw long stringy hair, black mussed clothes, an ugly bearded mug with an ugly scar down his cheek. Haunted eyes. Maybe that's all he was now. Just one ugly piece of shit with haunted eyes.

A headache hit him again and he groaned, holding the side of his head. The white whizzed towards him once more. He ducked once again, feeling the heat of it. Watched the light shoot off into the darkness in the corner of the room, breaking through the roof. Oh shit, oh shit. He recognized crazy when he saw it. For the first time in a long while, he wished he had a phone. He'd call Superman, call his Dr. Graham, because he was losing his mind. NO, actually, deed was done. He had fuckin' LOST his mind. The dead body on the bed told him so.

He was fucked.

He shook his head, shook his body. He saw Lucia… and Reese and Jed… and… and… he could not say her name. He heard her voice and felt her warm kiss and a soul-encompassing sob burst up through him.

_Amor, what have you done?_

Shook his head and shook his body. Resisted an urge to use the gun on himself. Realized he was holding the gun in his hand and had shoved the barrel right under his chin. Safety off. He could just pull the trigger. _Come on, come on, come on_… felt hot tears rolling down his face. Fingered the metal, the pull right there. Didn't know what stopped him. A quiet came… that's what happened. A kind of quiet. Breathed in and out, in and out.

Gun down. Safety back on. Back in his waistband. Sniffed. Rubbed his face dry. What's done is done. Well-deserved. His turn would come, he had no doubt. Karma, bitch, fate… craziness. One day he was going to pull that fucking trigger. This… he knew.

He opened the door and went into the room with the little girl.

* * *

><p>Pedro watched the screen and saw <em>Blanco <em>walk back onto the stage, the limp a little worse than usual. They had heard sounds from upstairs, a squeaking bed that had a distinct rhythmic quality. It had sounded like sex and Caro laughed, joking that Todd had only wanted to fuck Ivan… but Elon was mortified. It was obvious that Ivan wasn't a nobody. A lover maybe.

Pedro hit Caro, "Show some respect. Elon is our friend."

Caro hissed, "Is he?"

Elon, oblivious to the danger he was in, said, "Maybe they _are _just fucking? Maybe _Blanco_ will spare him?"

Death was always a euphemism for fucking. But Pedro knew better. His son was capable of terrible things when pushed to his limit and Pedro definitely pushed his son today to his limit. The little girl's rape had pushed him _beyond_ his limit. Pedro had to do it, though. He had to know if _Blanco_ had betrayed him. His questions had been answered. In spades. The truth had glistened in his bastard son's eyes that afternoon in the shadows of the beach house bedroom.

_Blanco _was loyal to Pedro and MK. The sight of him on his knees, arms out, his heart waiting for a bullet if that's what it took… the color on his belly and back… it made Pedro cry with love for this man. More of a son than any of his blood children, than any other MK soldier old or young.

Ivan was a gift, as such. A throwback to Horenda, the first binding act between MK and _Blanco_. A re-affirming that MK would be there for _Blanco_ and his need to right the world when he saw fit, the giving of trust that _Blanco_ judged correctly. So when Pedro saw the intent in _Blanco's_ eyes, Pedro did not fight.

Ivan had to die the same as Horenda.

At the last minute, though, when Pedro saw _Blanco's_ face in the camera… there was a deep sadness in his eyes that Pedro had never seen before, that only he as _Blanco's _father recognized. He went back and forth in his mind about what it meant. When the worst possibilities dawned on him, he ran upstairs. The girl was alone by then. The other bedroom door was locked. He listened and knew what was happening. There was nothing to do. He loved _Blanco_ and truth be told, he was afraid for him. Pedro returned downstairs to the laughing Caro and the bed springs.

Yes, yes, yes, _Blanco_ was a mystery. Though he enjoyed the fruits of young men, though he loved the challenge and the profit of the child pornography business, though he had a history of… rape… he could not abide by unabashed violence on children or those he deemed unable to protect themselves. Certainly not violence in his presence. Certainly not violence that he could remedy.

It was why he got rough with young Leya that one night at the Havana restaurant. _Blanco _had been very afraid for her when she threw herself at him. He took it upon himself to show how dangerous he was… not to hurt her, but to warn her of how vulnerable she was, how defenseless. Of course, Pedro had to punish _Blanco _for handling Leya…poorly. He had to punish him the same way when _Blanco_ showed up at the restaurant high on heroin… shaming himself…

Pedro understood him nevertheless.

Yes… when it came to violence, unreasoned violence, on those HE deemed innocent which did tend to fluctuate at times… _Blanco _could not abide by it. He had what he called… an ethic. A recognizable morality for which Pedro had untold admiration.

So yes, today… Pedro knew that Ivan had to go. But he worried that _Blanco_ might not abide his own violence.

He drank his rum. Watched _El Diablo Blanco_ on the screen be a dark angel to that little girl. Waited for the time when he would have to kill Elon.

* * *

><p>Todd sat on the bed. The girl, Alicia, touched the drapes, rubbing the fabric in between her fingers. He did not dare touch her. A myriad of reasons why. He did not want to stain her further, he did not want to frighten her, he wanted to respect her person. He moved the blanket up higher though. Covering her because it had slipped down. A torn pair of panties lay on the floor at Todd's feet. He pushed them under the bed.<p>

"Can you talk to me, little one?"

She turned slightly, looking at him. Dark haunted eyes looked back at him. Some recognition in her eyes cleared them. "I know you," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"You… have a dog."

"I do. His name is Abram. He is very soft and very nice."

"You were afraid when I saw you."

"I was. I was afraid for you…I tried to find you. I could not. Until today."

She looked away, turned back to the curtains. Touching, touching, touching.

He asked softly, "Alicia?"

She did not answer, just touched the curtains. He stood up and tightened the blanket around her, lifting her out of the bed. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was light, a whisper of a girl. He stepped out of the room, stood a moment in the hall when she asked quietly, "Where are you taking me?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"I want to go home."

"Where is that?"

"San Juan…." She cried into his chest. San Juan, Puerto Rico. She whimpered, "I want my mama."

"Shhhh…. want to see my dog? Abram will like you very much."

A muffled whisper asked, "Is he in San Juan?"

"No, but you will get there soon enough."

He began to move and she shook, frightened, kicking her legs. He stopped cold. "What is it, _preciosa?"_

"Are you going to want me to dance?"

His breath caught in his throat. Could hardly speak. "No," he rasped. "Nobody will ever ask you to do that again. I promise. You are going home."

She settled again in his arms. Hiding her face in his chest. What's done is done, he thought. Well-deserved death. He walked carefully down the stairs. When he hit the floor, all the men looked at him. The little girl in his arms did not move. He hoped she could breathe.

Elon flew to his feet and stood in front of Todd who glared at him. "Did you kill him?!"

Todd glanced at the little girl in his arms, then flashed a whole lot of hate at Elon, growling, "MOVE."

"You bastard!"

Todd gritted his teeth, lifted his knee and shoved Elon down with his boot. "You set an animal on her and you KNEW it. I should kill YOU now."

Pedro pulled Elon away. He snapped at Todd, "Take her. Take her to Gloria. She will heal her. I will take care of Elon…"

Caro nodded. "The taxi is outside."

Todd walked out of the house and leaned back against the now-closed door, his energy beginning to wane, his ability to think beginning to go away. "Think, Alicia, think hard. Do you know your address? The names of your parents?"

She shook her head, buried still against his chest. The taxi waited. He barely made the car, putting her gently in. Climbed in after her. His legs like spaghetti. He slammed the car door shut. Watched the lights as they made their way to the beach house. Pressed a hand to the cool glass. Watched Alicia huddled under the blanket, eyes on his.

The images of the night, the day… they licked at his insides like the flames of a fire. He rubbed his wrists. The straps tight… his feet rubbing against sheets…

_Can I touch him? He is beautiful._

_That's why you're here. You wanted something in return for your business._

_Is he… mature…. yet? He is very young._

_He is eleven. _

Just his imagination. Peter Manning had never tied him up. He had never offered him to another man. He had been too selfish for such a thing. Had to be his imagination because everything had ended when he was nine, when his mother left. Eleven made no sense. His mind was punishing him for his evil doing. The shock of a murder he alone committed, directly… with his own hands, an act beyond any kind of redemption.

The little girl crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. He drew the blanket tightly around her, tightening it. Tight, tight, tight. An instinct as to what she needed. She breathed gently, a soft sigh in the cocoon he created out of the blanket and his body and arms. Relief maybe. He had no idea. He could see her eyes in the reflection on the window. Her eyes like his, following the lights.

Yes, yes, a monster's fitting life. Beyond… redemption.

_How you like me now, Delgado?_

**To be continued...**


	47. Chapter 47

**Caged**

**Chapter 47 - Be warned. Very dark, violent.**

Five minutes into the taxi ride and Todd said to turn around. Said it softly, because if his true emotion had come out of his mouth he'd have scared the shit out of the little girl in his arms who wouldn't let him go, whose arms wouldn't lessen their death grip on him. If he revealed the deadly white hovering above him, near him, whipping back and forth… threatening to blow him out of the taxi, the little girl would lose her fragile sense of safety. And so fragile it was.

"S-S-Stop here… _aqui, si, si….gracias_…"

He tumbled out of the car with his wounded caterpillar and walked in the chilled air an empty block to his favorite _paladar, _Raquel's place. Didn't know if this taxi driver was trustworthy so he'd asked to be dropped a bit away. He couldn't go to the beach house. Didn't trust the beach house. Didn't know if Pedro was waiting with another gun to kill him, kill Alicia, Gloria, Rico...

Above all, nobody could see him like this… this crazy, this far gone. It was fucking bad. Bad, bad, bad. He didn't know why, but he trusted Raquel… she would help him, she knew his sickness, she'd said it so many times…

"_You are not well, let me help you. What do you need, my friend?"_

Every step threatened to be his last. Countless times he grabbed the wall to keep from falling. The blanket's edge dragged on the sidewalk and he kept looking at it because it seemed a connection to the ground, the earth. He kept ducking because the crazy was trying to kill him, choke him, the white dancing all over the place now, firing at him… so ready to get him. He slogged his way to the back of the _paladar_. Kicked the door. Hugged the girl tighter to his chest. She'd seemed to have let go of him. She seemed… _dead_.

Said to the bewildered worker at the door, "Raquel," the night thinning his voice, weighing it down.

The she-worker didn't even blink. Took one look at the stranger in the doorway and ran. Raquel with her long white hair wrangled into a thick braid, in her men's trousers, showed up fast and led him upstairs. She had to grab him by the arm when he faltered, his shoulder hitting the wall.

"_Keep walking, my friend," _she said_, "only a few steps more."_

He stuttered. The words falling over each other like clowns in a circus. He hardly made sense. "_She is- she is...she is…" _ His brain blanked… he couldn't find the Spanish word…. "She is hurt. _Un...un… hombre._" He almost cried but pulled it in hard. She looked at him and the expression on her face told him he did not need to elaborate. She cursed under her breath as she pushed the two into space he couldn't wrap his mind around… a space, a space...

His legs finally gave way and he collapsed on a bed in a room with ragged walls and shelves laden with medical things, bending with the weight. Bandages, antiseptics, scalpels, tons of rows of medications, metal…equipment. Raquel wasn't just a restaurant owner but also a midwife, a home-grown, unlicensed _doctor. _She hurried, grabbing a blanket out of a closet and wrapped it around Todd's shoulders. Pulled it tight.

"_You're in shock_," she said. When she reached for the girl, to pull her out of his arms… he couldn't let go. His arms… would not release her. He was shaking now, the warmth of the blanket seeming to bring out the cold inside of him.

She tried to encourage him, her soft eyes looking into his, _"Deje que la ayude, mi amigo. Por favor."_

He shook his head, feeling a deer in headlights. Swallowed hard. She smiled gently and then said in her limited English, "She...bleeding maybe. She die from no blood..._ por favor, mí hijo… darle a mí._"

He blinked, gazing downward at the little girl, seeing her eyes closed, her face slack. Sleeping or unconscious or... _dead_. He let her go. His arms loosened and he felt the girl being pulled away from him, from his protection. He looked at his empty hands, saw Raquel shuffle out the door. When he turned forward, he was facing the white. His breathing sped up, sweat prickled the back of his neck. He closed his hands into fists. Eyes wide open, stuck on the light.

The loss of the girl opened him up, making him completely vulnerable to the hovering orb across the room, his chest and face and head in plain view of the TRUTH, the Grand Fucking Truth. He looked at the white, screams inside his head, the straps on his wrist tightening so he couldn't move or duck anymore…

_Sorry, my friend, so so sorry. It is time you know everything. _

He didn't want to… but it was all too fucking late. BAM, the thing came flying at him. Blew him back against the wall. Like the bullets that Téa had given him. Only this time instead of hot metal to his chest, the white hit him straight between the eyes.

_Oh SHIT._

* * *

><p>Llanview's city lights reminded Téa of hundreds of conversations, tens of fights, endless negotiating, and heated love-making… the lights in the night sky reminded her of Todd. Nothing had changed. He was in the cold air, the dark clouds against the black, in the blocks of darkened windows across the city. He kicked her from the inside, pressed on her bladder, dug a little foot against her ribs… goddamn it. Six months along only, but the little one was big, all Manning genes. She breathed… murmured words to the baby.<p>

"_Cálmate, Esperanza….cálmate."_

He was in the paperwork on her lap.

She issued a soft grunt as she read a last stack of financials for one of MK's holding companies. Very clean. Legit. Profitable. Laundered money well. MK proper was essentially a highly successful investment company. American as baseball and apple pie. So clean and wholesome that employees had medical, dental, vision, pensions...

MK soldiers were fully covered. _Vision_! Téa had no words at the colossal balls of Pedro Moreno and Todd Manning.

If their operation was ever deconstructed by a really smart and clever FBI agent... Moreno and Manning would go to prison. But such untangling wasn't likely. All the money was accounted for, all their investments were legit. All the illegal income from drugs and gambling flowed through many layers of companies, banks, off-shore accounts. These men should win an award. The Oscars of money-laundering…

_We'd like to thank the Academy… cue the music._

Oh yeah...forgot about apparent child-porn income. That was very hidden, too. So hidden Téa saw no evidence of it.

_We'd REALLY like to thank the Academy…._

Across George Strauss's office sat Rolon Lopez who looked completely out of place in his work boots and blue-collar Cuban chic. Hulky man almost too big for the stuffy legal-looking leather chair. He couldn't possibly have an idea of what George was mumbling about but every so often he'd nod to show mild agreement. He pulled his phone out and scrolled through texts during the quieter moments. At one point, something struck him and he knocked his head back, cursing under his breath. Took a bit to regain his composure. Téa didn't know why… but she had a bad feeling about tonight. Bad vibes all over.

The baby kicked her, "Aiii…come on, _chiquitita..._" She was feeling it, too.

Both George and Rolon glanced at her, concerned.

"I'm okay," she sighed, "just the baby moving…"

Rolon eyed her, the slightest of grins playing on his lips and a bit of amusement sparkling in his eyes. She ignored him and pushed the paperwork aside. "My husband is a genius."

"And so is his lawyer… uh… that would be me."

"Yes, George, no doubt. As a note, you ought to consider going public with SportFan."

"The sports app?"

"Yup, lotta talk...the next big thing."

Rolon stretched his arms above his head, muscles straining the shirt. Téa imagined he got his build by being a killer-mechanic, first throwing bodies into the river, then moving engines with his bare hands. She imagined all sorts of things. As he settled back into the seat, he gave off an air of impatience. Knuckles whitened as he gripped his knees. Eyes trained on the carpet, unblinking. Twisted his mouth, untwisted it. That text he got was eating at him.

"Do you still need me? I'd like to… hit it."

George sat back on his seat and studied Rolon. "You in contact with Manning?"

He paused, head bobbing. "Yeah, what of it?"

"He's been on that fuckin' island a while. He got plans to reclaim his American citizenship any time soon?"

Cool green eyes landed on Téa's browns, back to George. He shrugged. "My brother is…" His eyes dropped, the coolness fading, seriousness taking over. "He's a busy man."

Patience was lost on George. "The fuck is he doing, Lopez? What does he tell you?"

"Manning… _El Diablo Blanco… _ is being who he was born to be. A King."

"Oh for Chrissakes…and what is THAT, pray tell?"

Rolon snorted, amused again, said, "Manning is an organizer, negotiator. Primary business... keeping American dollars flowing into Cuba. We make a lot of money off that. Means he needs to keep certain people aware of who he is, keep them aware of MK's dominance in this area."

"How?"

"Talking to them, being his _usual charming self_. A little bribery of the occasional official, proving they are all better off with MK running shit..." He paused, ran a big hand down his face, smoothing a beard he didn't have, "And he fights. Daring any motherfucker to kill him. Showing the impossibility of it. Can't kill him, means you can't kill MK." He put up his fists, throwing small punches in the air. "Just a show, _mamita._"

Téa sighed heavily, shaking her head. Sick. Wondered the message of his fighting... thinking _she_ was one of those motherfuckers to whom he wanted to prove his immortality. Could hear him curse her.

_Fuck you, bitch. Fuck YOU and your fucking Glock. I'm immortal. Always have been, always will be._

She shuddered, as if he were there, his hate tearing through her.

Rolon studied her. She raised moist eyes to his. Defensively, she snapped, "Are any of these killers of MK old-timers going to claim he's the one who set the killings up?" George sat back with arms crossed. Waiting.

Rolon shook his head, confident, lips tight. "No." Added, "He's safe. _I promise you._"

"Are _you_ safe?"

He grinned now, fully, "Ahhh.. does the lady lawyer care about this lowly _Cubano?"_

"I only worry that you will be care_less_, and that _Blanco_ will pay for it."

"It's locked up. He is innocent. Completely."

Téa didn't believe it. She needed a hell of a lot more than that. Bo had tried calling earlier. She didn't take the call.

George huffed, arms crossed. "I don't want to know anymore of this shit. I'm not YOUR attorney." The room was silent. After pointing a finger at Rolon, a kind of threat, he turned to Tea, "I'll draft those amendments you suggested. Further distancing him from the MK hierarchy. It's good. Good moves, Tea."

Rolon stood and asked for leave… "May I depart, counselors?"

Téa waved him away, Rolon reading his phone again, flying out the door. Left George with Téa. After a few minutes of assured privacy, George said, "Pedro Moreno isn't an idiot, you know."

"And?"

"He's shadowing Manning…every bit of insulation that Manning has, Moreno has as well."

"Has Todd contacted Juarez recently?"

"No, he hasn't, and that's been a concern, but McNair is there...getting shit in order. Juarez says they're really close to ending this thing. But...Moreno is going to be outside the net. They really don't have anything on him."

"Goddamn it."

"I know. I just..." George showed a rare moment of humanity. "I wish he would talk to me. The last time Manning felt powerless to stop someone he perceived as needing to be stopped... was Jessie Horenda. Only luck saved him there."

She debated telling George what Dr. Graham had told her, that Todd was in deep trouble… that his mental illness was putting him in terrible danger. Listening to George linking Todd to Horenda, linking Horenda to Todd's sense of justice...made Tim's warning very frightening. She realized what George was saying.

_Unexpected things._

"You think he'll kill Moreno."

"Yeah, and in his current state of mind? He'll never be able to cover his tracks."

"Would he even want to?"

"Jesus, I don't know," he grumbled. "He does get kinda suicidal… he got the scars to prove it."

"He needs to come home," Téa said. "He needs his doctor, his family."

George dragged his gaze from files to her, and gave her the saddest look. She turned away. "You don't have to say it, George. I made a terrible mistake." Tears threatened to erupt, revealing the depth of her guilt, of her sorrow. She breathed to stop it.

He closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We all make mistakes… who the fuck am I to judge? I defend people like you all the time. I'm just… worried about him down there, you know? Kinda stuck, kinda fuckin' helpless up here. I just hate to see the kid go down like this. He's a survivor… I'm not used to this….fuckin'... recklessness."

That bad vibe hit her again. The baby kicked down and she jumped, "Oh my _god_…this girl keeps kicking me…" She calmed, rubbing her belly, soothing the baby. "Shhh…."

She got up. "Please, get Juarez to end this thing. It NEEDS to be over."

He nodded, took her hand in his. She looked at his scruffy, grizzled face, white wild hair. He said, "I'll do everything I can, Ms. Delgado."

* * *

><p>Deep within the confines of the dark white… he studied the clear, crisp image laid out in front of him. Fucking 3-D, HD. Every detail in glorified, sickening, remembered detail. He wanted to run, but couldn't. His feet were glued to the green shag carpet. He had no choice but to look. He saw a naked kid on a bed, a four-poster bed that Peter Manning regularly slept in. The kid's body had already begun to change, mature. He knew he was eleven but really he was turning twelve. His birthday was the next week, or the next day or something like that. The kid in the bed was shaking, rocking his head back and forth. He didn't need a gag because, well, he was gagged with fear. A man was touching him, a naked man, his words soft and easy and gentle like silk.<p>

"_Don't be afraid, little one. Doesn't this feel nice? So soft?"_

Todd in his ghostly adult form turns and sees Peter Manning at the door, disgust on his face. He is full of hate, but also full of dark glee. Like he won a prize or something. Like he proved something he'd been trying to prove for a long fucking time. The man on the bed starts in on the kid with his hand and mouth. Todd shuts his eyes but the white smacks him, forcing him to look. The man is busy and huffing and shit is happening, JESUS… Todd can't look, but the white screams at him, yells in his ear that he must look, so he turns back to the bed…

… just as the kid pulls at the straps, pulls hard at the straps on his wrists, hands opening and closing, over and over, and then... _oh shit, oh shit, oh shit_… he begins to experience incredible pleasure, mind-numbing pleasure…

His feet rub against the sweat-dampened sheets, noise forced out of the depths of his throat as he rocks his head back, finally reaching his end and Todd knows, wishes he didn't, but he knows it's the first time the full thing is happening, has happened.

Todd can hear words from the man who is oh-so-pleased…

"_What a good, good boy… oh yes… so grown up… wasn't that good? My god, you were so ready… now feel me… I'm right there, too… open up for me… I'll be easy... I love you, beautiful boy..."_

The pain of what that man does rips through Todd and he falls to his knees in this dark room of a memory. He cries in this place, cries _blood_, a roaring agonized scream in his throat...he can taste the coppery red in his mouth, draining down into his stomach. Other scenes come to him now. Similar scenes that sprinkle the previous two years and the following two. He understands that he wasn't raped once at fourteen, but more than once, at earlier ages. And it makes him cry even harder… remembering the fear, remembering the pain, remembering the terrible _confusion_. He knows all the truths he tried so hard not to know, not to remember.

Ever.

He bends his forehead to the green shag carpet, moaning in yawning, soul-crushing grief. The carpet's stink digs into his nose and mouth, tearful snotty wetness falling. The straps on his wrists burn and he knows instinctively, knows without having to look, that they are nylon stockings, light colored nylon. Yeah, yeah, his mother's old stockings are tying him to the posts… and his cock throbs because it's all so connected, it's all… so… so… intimate and sick, and… and… he remembers how he thought that at least his mother was with him in some way, in some way holding him…it's so fucking twisted, how his mind worked.

_Oh god, oh god_… how stupid, how profoundly stupid.

But Todd's self-flagellation is interrupted. He suddenly knows the rapist's voice is familiar…his words tinted with something… something he hears everyday...

Lifting his head, he studies the man moving on the bed, his hips bucking… thumping… the headboard banging now, a gentle tapping… _oh god oh god, oh my fucking god_... but who is that man? Wracks his brain as to who Peter engaged with who would do this, who would do such sick torture. Had he met that man before? The dark hair. The strong body. He is young, maybe thirty, like Ivan. Maybe older? It's an accent, Todd suddenly gets. The man on the bed speaks with an accent.

A _Spanish _accent.

Todd sniffles and stands up… and steps close to the bed, trying to ignore the kid's face, his nobody's-home expression, eyes stuck on the ceiling, his hands limp now in the straps, not fighting anymore, his body moving back and forth with the assault. Ahhh… the very portrait of victimization. Oh yeah, isn't that peachy, isn't that such good training at complete disconnection. The root of total _fucking _amnesia.

_Bravo! Well done, Manning-old-boy! Clap... clap... clap..._

No, no, stop watching, stop taking that in. He forces himself to only look at the rapist's face. Look at his sideburns, pock-marked skin, blackish hair, fine nose… that wide mouth. The black mole right beneath his right eye. Coldness runs through him, from head… to fucking TOE. Feels nothing but disbelief, impossibility. He would have KNOWN, yeah? What, what, what the FUCK?

_He is looking at a very young, rich, smooth-talking Cuban pedophile… Manuel Caro._

Peter's laugh echoes in the room, a loud rolling triumphant laugh. "Didn't I tell you he likes punishment?"

* * *

><p>When Téa stepped outside the building, she shivered, and watched the moving clouds above her. Grey sliding against the black… the stars and moon coming into sight, then not. The guilt for what she had done to Todd ran through her like another liquid in her blood. In these moments of quiet, she always saw his face in those last seconds before she pulled the trigger. His eyes had widened, his mouth opened in a soft, soundless gasp. Disbelief.<p>

_Bang, bang..._

She stopped, a hand on the brick wall along the sidewalk. Her head dropped and she could hardly breathe at the memory. "Damn," she huffed. Eyes down, she heard someone clear his throat, heard heavy footsteps against the concrete.

"_Estás bien?"_

Rolon. Straight ahead. Cue the sinister music.

She bristled, "I'm _fine_."

He stepped out of the shadows and got close to her, lifting her chin to look into her eyes with the tenderest of touches. Green warmth gazed back at her, a slight accent rolling off his tongue. "The problem with making up to _Blanco _is that it is impossible to do. He will look at you after you have done all the good work, and he will show you the truth… that you will always be beneath him. That you gave into your fears, weaknesses, the lesser part of you… which unlike him, you are not entitled to do if you belong to HIM. He'll shake his head like an old man, sad, betrayed, and you… you will weep at his feet. He won't forgive you, ever. And he will always hold the _Great Transgression_ against you, to get what he wants. The work will never end, _preciosa_… to make up for that past." He sighed, looked into the distance, then back at her. "But you must keep trying."

She shoved him away, her hand a butterfly on a bull. Stood tall. "Speak for yourself," she said, her voice tight, stressed.

He chuckled. "Yeah? This is why you came to me, no? Why you are working so hard to protect him? You are trying to make up for what happened."

"There is an end to my work. You… are different. You premeditated. You gathered the tools and snuck into our house and injected him, hoping to overdose him. First degree attempted murder."

"I wanted him more _addicted_… hoping he'd kill himself."

"And that's any better? NO, first degree."

"And you?"

"Second degree. Crime of passion. You have _transgressed_ much more than me."

He laughed, "_Abogada…_" He took a step close again, reached out and held a hand to her belly. She glared at him. His eyes trained firmly on hers. He moved his hand upwards, settling right beneath her breast. She pushed him away.

"What do you want, Rolon?"

The smirk faded. "I want you to come to Cuba with me."

"Why?"

"Because your husband, he's… walking a razor's edge that calls for restraint and he seems to be lacking in that restraint. Like in Statesville. He needs… _restraint_ in the form of people who love him."

"Jedediah is there. He will be able to provide necessary love."

Rolon laughed, "The BOY?"

"Don't knock him, he has a lot of influence. He's not a boy anymore."

"To Manning… he will always be a boy."

Téa swallowed hard, the worries of George in her head, of Tim. Truths. She whispered, "He is not ready to see me, Rolon."

"He has no choice. He MUST pay attention to US."

Waving him away, she started walking. Her phone lit up. She saw it was Rolon. A text. She turned. "I told you, he's not ready to see me."

"Check your phone, _mamita."_

She looked at him, something in that voice, a thread of desperation. She lifted her phone. Clicked on the message. Found herself staring at a picture of an obviously dead man on a bed. A naked, dead man, ugly color in the bright flash.

"What the hell is this," she hissed, "… sharing your trophy pics?"

Rolon sidled up to her, his face colored with worry. "Your husband has lost control. He will not be safe for long."

"_He_ killed this man?"

"Yes. Suffocated him. In cold blood. Pedro sent this to me tonight. Said, come get _Blanco. Cuba...is not so healing after all."_

She threw up at Rolon's feet.

Two hours later, Téa Delgado was on a flight to _La Habana, Cuba_, Rolon seated next to her on Pedro Moreno's private jet. She did not know what she was getting into, she did not know what Todd would do, say, at the sight of her. But he was in trouble. In deep, serious...trouble.

"He might kill me," she said, thinking aloud, just as they hit the cruising altitude. She shouldn't have come. What the hell was she thinking?

_That she needed to keep trying to make up for what she had done._

Rolon turned to her, laid a hand on hers, "No. NO. That will not happen. I will not let it. He needs the shock of seeing you. He needs to understand he still has people. This is what's wrong. He is alone. He… has lost everything. He has nothing to lose anymore. And no, his son… isn't enough." He gazed outside the window, into the black. "I will keep you safe."

She prayed… that some part of him was still HIM. That he would hear some part of HER in her words…

_I am here._

She hoped he would not offer her… two bullets to the chest to say…

_Fuck you, and welcome to my hell._

When turbulence hit, she grabbed Rolon's hand.

* * *

><p>Something brought him around, cold water, rum, maybe even a dose of cocaine… he didn't know. Whatever it was, he got pulled out of the torturous kind of white, the kind where he lives inside a memory and can't get out of it. The kind of disassociation that is anything BUT restful. He woke up on his side, shaking like a fucking pussy, sweating like hell, the blanket in his fist, and the bare mattress scraping his cheek. His boots banged against the metal footboard. Raquel's voice rolled over him, easy as salty water from a waveless ocean, "<em>Enough, enough, my friend… nobody is here. It is only us, calm yourself, calm yourself..."<em>

He scrambled up against the wall, hands out… trying to get his bearings. Long hair in his face kept puffing out from his hard breaths. "_The girl… where is she?"_

"_She is safe, fine. Sleeping in the room next door."_

"_Show her to me!"_

"_Blanco… you have been through something. You are recovering. You need to rest or else you will frighten her. She is fine, all is well. She is safe. Nobody can get to her. I promise you. I have men downstairs. They protect me and everyone here."_

"Okay, okay, okay, okay…"

He knew he was crazy, looking all around the room, eyes bouncing wildly. He got off the bed, the blanket he'd been holding still in his fist. He paced… unable to calm down. Fucking impossible to settle in any way. He was wrecked, through and through. He dug the heels of his hands in his eyes, the blanket catching a restrained scream choking out… he paced and paced the tiny room, the blanket dragging behind him like a kid would drag it, a small ruined kid who was tortured on a repeated basis… a small ruined kid who murdered a man in cold blood and liked it so much he ejaculated while doing it.

_Oh my fucking GOD. _

Raquel moved out of his way, stood hard against the door to prevent him from leaving.

"_Do you want something… something to calm down?"_

He didn't answer, just kept up the insane pacing. The words finally hit him and he stopped, "What?"

"_Let me give you something. You need to settle down."_

"Yeah… yeah… I can't be like this… FUCK!"

"_Sit down. Sit, my friend. Please."_

He did… he sat, but was squirming and shifting and popping while Raquel dug into drawers for medicine and stuff. He quickly realized she was melting Mexican black tar heroin. He practically wept, mewling, "Oh yes, yes, yes...that…yes, that…" She finally got next to him, syringe in her hand, saying, _"Take off your shirt." _ He did, he fought his way out of his jacket and shirt, scratching himself as he did it, so desperate to get out of the restraints.

"_Give me your arm,_" Raquel said softly, trying not to look at the scarring, seeing instead his real affiliation, _Los Reyes del Mambo_, across his stomach. Her heart jumped. Dangerous men she knew, had seen the victims of. She hissed… but cooled because she sensed _Blanco _would never be a danger to her. Not directly. She eased his arm alongside hers and tied it off with latex… and he watched it, his lips parting with desperation, knowing the relief that was going to hit him. He could hardly take the anticipation, his boots scraping, scraping…

"_Calm yourself," _she said, "_or I will miss…please, my child…_"

Raquel caressed his head, trying hard to get him to settle enough so she would get things right, getting him to look at her finally… "You are okay…," she said, her face draped with patience and kindness. "_I will take care of you."_

He started to cry but then didn't, nodding, that same desperation, the same crazy in his eyes. It was all he could do to keep still, to keep from slipping into the hellish memories.

_Manuel, Manuel, Manuel…_

She looked down at his arm, seeing more of his terrible past on his skin. She paused… glanced up at him with sorrowful eyes, "_You are an addict. I cannot..._"

It took some moments for him to understand her hesitation and when he did, his face crumpled, "No, no, no, oh god, no… that was a long time ago, please just a small amount… Raquel… please, please, please… I am going crazy, I am losing my mind…" The tears came now, and he grabbed her by her arms, "Please, please, please…" He cried against her shoulder, the pain deep and horrible and so unlike what he had always been, and yet showing what she always knew to be inside. She put her arms loosely around him, like a mother.

"Okay, okay… _yes, only a small amount… shhhhh…. but please stay still.._."

He pulled away, nothing left of him, everything dead and dying. He let her take his arm again, shaking… trying so hard to keep still. "The girl?"

"_She is fine…calm down…"_

"Okay, okay… please… hurry…"

Sniffling… nodding her head, going against her morals… she tapped a vein, couldn't believe she found a good one considering the condition of his arm… and he managed to stay still just long enough for her to shoot him up with his beloved heroin. Just a small amount, she kept saying… just enough to soothe his insides, to quiet the madness. When she withdrew the syringe, when she untied the latex, after she put the works aside, he looked at her in the eyes, consciousness fading. She smoothed his beard at that, caressing his face, and watched him relax, his head pitching back. He fell back slowly, so slowly, eyes on the ceiling, tears rolling down his cheeks, disappearing into the rough. He settled back on the bed, slowly, oh so slowly, as if held by a puppet's string… everything in him letting go, releasing… breathing more gently now, licking his lips, his eyes closing but not all the way…staring blissfully into nothing. What she'd given him hit him deep and powerfully.

Raquel leaned forward and held her head in her hand, her other one on Todd's rising and falling chest, checking for his breath. Making sure he'd not go too far under. "_Lo siento, Blanco… lo siento mucho." _She had always known he was a broken man, she just had no idea HOW broken.

He coughed and she grabbed a tin, holding him as he threw up. She cleaned him, putting the tin down. Heroin tended to do that. She'd given him a little more than a little. He needed to be out. He needed to recover from whatever thing had made him so unwell, from what he'd seen done to that child most likely. It had been terrible, but thank god, not life-threatening. No internal bleeding, thank god. Raquel's daughter, Bella, remained with the little girl in the next room, and Raquel would stay here with this patient. His wounds though… they were different. They were wounds of his heart, his soul, his mind.

Sometimes, such wounds were not fixable.

The girl, on the other hand,… was young enough. With a strong mother, with love, she'd grow past it. Raquel had seen so many like her. Too many women she knew had some tale to tell. Most grew up… not forgetting, not getting over… but living with it.

She closed her eyes, eyes wet with empathy. She hoped her poor friend would be calmer when the high wore off, but she wasn't sure he would. One thing though, she hoped the rest of the Mambo Kings wouldn't come looking for him, or the girl. The ink on his body scared her. She had known he had dirty business, but the color she saw now told her he was somebody far more important than he ever let on, and far more dangerous.

_Madre de dios_. She was in it now.

* * *

><p>Pedro Moreno and Manuel Caro worked together as they chucked the bodies of Ivan and Elon into the bay, many miles from Havana. Pedro rarely got his hands dirty this way but when it came to <em>Blanco, <em>he felt compelled to do it. This was… delicate. Political. Manuel sniffed and watched the dark water.

"What upset him so much? He has seen much worse pictures, movies…"

"It was in person, Manuel. He has a soft heart for children, the younger ones."

"Too soft. I don't like what I saw tonight. Has he told you anything? Do I need to worry?"

"Of course not, brother."

"Someone betrayed me before. It's how I ended up in prison."

"I know. Don't worry about _Blanco. _He is devoted to profits, to MK."

The two walked to the car, Manuel lost in thought. They slid into the seats, slammed the doors shut. Manuel gripped the steering wheel without turning the ignition. "I have something to confess," he said. "Why I'm worried… you need to understand."

"What?"

"You have always been… my brother, my friend. You have always sought to protect me from my… _interests_."

"Yes?"

"I am afraid I have ancient history with _Blanco. _He does not know… who I am to him. I have not seen any recognition. But tonight, I am concerned."

Pedro stopped in his tracks. Turned. Said softly, "What kind of history?"

Manuel was a handsome man, the same age as Pedro. Grey coloring his hair, his goatee. He was still strong. They had travelled through life together, since they were kids. They had grown up in the same home, a foster home on the north side of the Cuban island before Pedro's parents retrieved him and fled to the United States. They had endured many similar pains… but Manuel… got treated slightly worse. Manuel… developed_ issues_. Pedro had always known of Manuel's… _issues_. But he loved him and so did whatever he could to protect him, even setting up the pornography ring. It would keep his brother busy….

Safe.

"_Blanco_ was given to me… when he was a child. His father…"

Pedro slammed a hand on Manuel's face, a hard unforgiving hand on Manuel's mouth. "NO."

Manuel pushed Pedro's hand away, tasting blood… "I am sorry, but… I am certain of it."

"No. No. NO."

"Pedro…"

"You are wrong."

Manuel grew quiet. Pedro did not move. Hardly breathed. He was sickened and Manuel knew it. He had to tell, though, explain. Said, "He was barely a teenager. I am certain it is him. Same name. Looks different… but then he's grown now. He does not know who I am. Today… when I saw what he did to Ivan…. I am afraid if he knows, if he recognizes me… he will kill me. I am afraid that he knows, already."

"NO. You are wrong! He would know if you had done something like THAT. He would not be able to be in the same room as you. You would already be dead." Pedro warned him with a look. Although he knew nothing, truly, of his son's history, he was sure Manuel was wrong. His son would have killed Manuel back in Statesville faster than he killed Horenda.

"Yes, maybe I would be."

"Tonight was too much on him! He cannot abide by needless violence against children. He manages your business, our business, because he sees a bigger picture for MK. But… what Ivan did, in front of him, crossed a line. No, he cannot handle such a thing. It was the right thing, taking Ivan out. Elon, too. I could not have Elon carrying a grudge against my son. No, no, you are mistaken."

"Perhaps he will want to end me, too. He suffocated Ivan, with his hands… that small pillow. Do you know what such a thing would take? He could have made it easy… but he didn't. He wanted him to suffer." He looked down. "He pushed on Ivan's body so hard, the man not only suffocated, he had broken bones….that death… the pain..."

"No, _Blanco_ supports your methods! You would already be DEAD! _Blanco_ made a point today. Nothing but support for YOU. Ivan put all we have done, what you have done, at risk. He had to go. The girl was ruined. You always treat the children well… the little girl danced… she let Ivan touch her body without fear… she would have been an active participant, a learned one. Grooming children… to be whores… is not easy. Ivan cost us and Ivan had to KNOW."

The words… Pedro spat out. He did not live under any illusion of Manuel's methods. But he'd committed a long time ago to protect his brother.

Manuel tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. The two men sat in the silence, the Cuban winter biting through the open window. "_Blanco_ is the child I was with, my brother. I am sorry. His father gave him to me in exchange for our products for his export business. He wanted our contacts with the South American fruit industry. Remember? We were going to be bringing many products to…. what was the name? Ah, yes, World Exports in Chicago. One of our first international investments?" He paused. "I spent many nights with the boy…"

"I cannot hear this," Pedro huffed.

"You MUST! Listen… his father was cruel, always tying him up, always watching us… The boy… I knew him as Thomas Manning. I called him _Tomás_."

"Manuel… please… it is coincidence. His first name isn't Thomas. It's Todd. Todd Manning… that is his name." Pedro kept shaking his head, no, no, no… the man's records all listed him as… he took a breath. _My god._ They all listed him as _T. Todd Manning_. What did the _T_ stand for?

"No… Pedro… there was a time in Statesville and I overheard him say his first name was _Thomas_. A joke, I don't remember anymore… but I knew it was the truth. I knew MANNING, but not the first name. When I realized that was the name of the man in Statesville, a sex offender no less… I knew it was the boy turned adult. I was arrogant. I thought I had made him into the man he was…"

Pedro refused to believe it, whispering, "No, no, no…"

"I know you care for him, but I assure you I was nothing like his father. I made sure he enjoyed it. I treated him well, brother, I promise. I loved him as best I could. I used my gentle ways on his body, always bringing him to a good ending. His father seemed to think he was punishing the boy but whenever I entered him, I was gentle...I tried to-"

Pedro turned, "When you… what?"

Manuel bit down, rasping, "When I… entered him…?"

With every ounce of power, Pedro punched him in the mouth, "I CANNOT HEAR THIS!" He punched him again, and again, and again…"YOU RAPED MY SON! MY GOD!" He punched until Manuel was sobbing, begging for Pedro to stop… When he finally did, Pedro was moaning into his hands… shaking with horror, with this terrible truth. He had seen something on _Blanco's _face when he looked into the camera, that sadness… _my god..._

Manuel cried, blood flowing now, "Brother!"

He laid a hand on Pedro's shoulder but Pedro shouted, "Don't touch me!"

"I am sorry, I am so so sorry..."

"I would kill you in this very moment! Right now I would KILL YOU! But I cannot… I cannot kill you but God knows I want to!" Pedro held his hands to his face and found himself crying. It wasn't Manuel's fault. He had been ruined, made sick in his head. How would he ever know the boy he was abusing would grow up to be MK? To be so close to Pedro?

_HOW DID PEDRO NOT KNOW HIS SON HAD BEEN SO MISTREATED?_

Pedro opened the door and slammed his shoes on the dirt. He breathed in the cold air as he paced. He shook his head. Tried to clear it. Things were now very confusing. His son's violence made sense now. But his supposed rapes of boys did not. He did not believe for one instance, not now, that his son in fact was raping boys in prison. Everything he was told must have been a lie. Or… or… illusion. Or… not rape at all. Consensual maybe. The death of Ivan screamed the truth. _Blanco_ HATED men who raped children. His supposed interest in child trafficking even as a business did not make sense either. That sadness… _my god..._

Everything… now… did not make sense. He had a cell phone. Took it out. Called the beach house. Gloria answered.

"_Where is Blanco? He arrived with an injured girl, yes?"_

"_No, Pedro. He is not here. He had a child? An injured child?"_

"_Yes… he has not called you?"_

"_No. I will send Rico out - he usually can find him. Maybe… maybe he took the child to hospital?"_

"_Maybe. Gracias, mi amor. Thank you. Please call me on my cell number if you learn where he is."_

He got back into the car. "Let's go. Drop me at the beach house. You… make sure your place is clean of all messes, anything. Clean it up. We will talk tomorrow."

"I am sorry, I should have told you."

"Do not mention it to me again. You mention it again, my love for you… might not save you."

As they drove back to Havana, it dawned on Pedro… that if _Blanco_ had a game against Manuel, he might indeed have a game against Pedro, knowing now Pedro ran the child trafficking business. Which meant… that maybe… his son was the one responsible for all those MK deaths after all.

But Pedro did not feel the same hate he had felt earlier… he felt pain, sorrow, understanding… Pedro had become a victim of his own efforts at lifelong protection. His son had been ruined… like Alicia, like Rico…

Manuel raped young Thomas Todd Manning. _El Diablo Blanco. _

And nobody had ever made things right for him_. _Nobody had ever killed the perpetrators on his behalf. Nobody had ever protected him. His own father watched Manuel abuse him, doing nothing. He could only imagine what other torture he inflicted upon him. Pedro did not blame _Blanco _for not being able to see all Pedro did for him… how could he?

Pedro eyed Manuel, then watched the lights pass him by, the healing powers of Havana very far away.

* * *

><p>As soon as Gloria told Rico, he took off into the city like a bat out of hell.<p>

He knew about Raquel but did not tell Gloria. Knew that if _Blanco_ needed medical help and wanted discretion he'd go to Raquel. She was famous in the red light district. She helped with abortions, pregnancies, sexually transmitted diseases, anything that someone needed medical help with but didn't want to visit a clinic for. Didn't want to get on the government's radar. He had laughed when _Blanco _had told Rico about his favorite _paladar_.

"Are you kidding? You like the whores' doctor?" He had laughed and laughed… and for once _Blanco_ has smiled.

"She smells like bread,_" Blanco_ said. "She has big breasts… I always want to press my face against them."

Rico had cracked up at that, finding it so funny, but kind of understanding. "She is like a mother…," he had said.

"Yeah," _Blanco _had answered softly, lost in thought.

Rico knocked on the back door, a worker opening up. It was very late, well past three. _"Can I talk to Raquel?"_

The worker knew Rico and let him in, said to go on up, to knock on the first door gently. When Rico did, the door opened just enough. He could see the _Blanco's _booted foot hanging off the side of the bed… "Y_ou have my friend, please, Raquel…"_

"_You know him?_" She didn't trust it. She had known Rico a long time and he did not make friends with gang members.

"_Yes, he is in the Mambo Kings. Goes by Blanco. Bad scarring on his arms."_

She let him in and Rico saw he was out of it. No shirt, laid out on the bed. He wasn't quite sleeping, wasn't quite awake. _"What is wrong with him? A seizure?"_

"_No, I had to give him medicine. He is not well. He was very upset, a sickness in his mind. Trauma. He was in shock, he could not sit still…"_

Rico moved to the bed and when he sat on it, _Blanco_ seemed to stir. Saw Rico… and smiled slightly. Terribly high. The smile faded. Rico leaned forward, whispered, "Did you burn the house down?"

"Only a room." Closed his eyes and turned his head away. Rico looked at Raquel. She handed Rico a gun, holding it like it could burn her. Or explode.

"_This is his. I do not like guns."_

Rico took it, put it in his jacket pocket. "_I can stay with him, doctor. Go rest."_

"_Yes, fine…but he will be asking about a girl. Tell him she is fine. She is safe in the next room. I can bring her to him first thing in the morning. He might be upset, Rico, VERY upset. Try to calm him. If he cannot be calmed, I will come right away. I will help him. He will need to be medicated…"_

"_What kind of medicine? He seems very drugged."_

"_I had to give very strong medicine. Heroin." _ Rico's eyes showed he knew that was bad. "_I had no choice," _she said._ "He was… inconsolable."_

The door shut and Rico touched the long hair, caressing it… he wondered what he meant by burning down a room. Looked at the gun…put it back. Took off his jacket, the thing clunking to the floor. He moved off the bed onto a chair tucked against the wall. Stretched his legs, crossing his feet at the ankles. Dozed.

After a long while, hours maybe, _Blanco _rasped his name, "Rico…"

Rico opened his eyes. He had no idea what time it was, the room windowless, no clocks. A single desk lamp lit the room. A strange space to be in. He got up, stiff from the hard chair, and eased himself onto the bed, eyeing his friend. Shadows played on _Blanco's _features, bringing out the hard edges, the dark circles under his eyes, the scar on his cheek, its ugliness. Tiredness that reached down into his soul. He reached out to Rico and pulled him close, a hard hand on the back of his neck. Rico could hardly move but for _Blanco's _grip on him.

"What is it? What is the matter?"

Without warning, _Blanco_ fully grabbed Rico and flipped him onto the bed, getting him on his back and trapping him against the wall. His breath was hot, smelled of fear, hate, determination.

"_Tell me about Manuel Caro," _ he huffed, "_… how did he talk to you? How did he rape you? Show me."_

**To be continued...**


	48. Chapter 48

**Caged**

**Chapter 48**

The room with the medical supplies and sagging shelves, lit by a far-away desklamp, got sharply heated. The faces of Todd and Rico were inches apart, bodies intertwined. The two were pressed up against the wall, the bed small and meant for only one. Rico couldn't move, could hardly breathe, the loose sheet on the old mattress twisted under him. Todd's heavy boots kicked the metal bar at the end of the bed as he shifted his weight, strong legs tight against Rico's. Rico struggled against his lion for a modicum of space, but gained nothing. He had heard the words and turned away.

"Go to hell," he hissed, waiting for the assault.

Todd pressed his forehead to Rico's instead, a gentle nudging, and whispered raggedly, "Please show me what he would do to you."

"_Why?! After all this time? Why do you need this _now?"

"_I need to know. Please, mari, do this for me_."

Light eyes peered through ropy hair and begged Rico, hard features breaking with unexplained emotion, pupils unmistakably pinned by heroin. Rico did not know what he was looking at, did not understand what was wrong with _Blanco_ to ask for such cruelty other than being high. He tried to get him to see reason, hands on cheeks, but Todd wrenched away from the warmth and dipped down, burying his face in Rico's hair, his mouth hot in his ear.

"_I need this."_

The bare skin of his arms and chest felt clammy and he smelled of dark, sharp sweat. His muscles were tight, the slightest tremble rolling through his body.

"Am I supposed to be _Caro_? Is that what you want… for me to be _him_?"

Todd gave a nearly-imperceptible nod, then raised his head, showing a real wanting of something breathlessly black, ugly. Beyond words. Rico groaned, "Oh no, no,…," his own eyes full of sadness, brows knitted with disbelief. "Do you know what you are asking... of _me_? To say his words? To move like him? _To live that?_ Do you, you fucking bastard?! What game are you playing?!"

Surprising aggression threaded Rico's voice and Todd hid his face once again, not understanding the problem, _confused_. Rico would be good at this. He'd BE Caro, he could recreate the nightmare easily because… unlike Todd, he remembers everything. He has NEVER forgotten. And besides, such a thing was his specialty, yeah? Humiliation, degradation, the insult. Acting out this shit was just another level of his expertise, yeah? Todd shuddered in his high, breathing in the scent of the sea in the crook of Rico's neck, the beach house, the winter air. He grunted at the out-of-control _crazy _jackhammering holes in his brain, in his soul, images firing away at him. He could not stop the seeing.

_The girl, the girl...did she know her killer was dead? Could she smell him on her savior's body? Did she feel his released soul fly past her, swishing down to hell? He was a coward, Alicia. Facing death, he pissed himself, cried tears, called for his mother._

_Or was that me?_

Todd groaned softly, moving his body, his legs, holding Rico's sleeve in a fist, fingers on the other side drawing the tee-shirt into his palm.

"No game, no game," he said roughly, knowing Rico was saying something, but the noise was too loud, preventing him from making sense of anything, unable to untangle the wiry words. He felt hands on the back of his neck and at the small of his back, and he writhed against them, the touch near-painful, electric. _Mari_ didn't understand that he _had_ to ask the favor, that he needed to see if the things Caro did to Rico matched the things Caro did in the mixed-up vision. See, see, in all the months of research, Caro was careful, never filming himself. So Todd had no idea… the moves, the sounds, the words…

He dug into Rico beneath him, pressing him into the mattress, all knees, thighs, and rock-like muscle. The sickness in his head was killing him, the heroin powerless against it. See, he thought maybe his vision wasn't real. That maybe… maybe he made it up. Maybe the thing never happened. Maybe the girl and the soul-killer… with Caro downstairs, maybe the idea got planted in his head. Yeah, yeah, maybe if he saw, felt, got _fucked_ by Caro today… it would trigger a sense of truth. Or god, GOD, he would know it was imagination. Please, please, let it be his twisted, corrupted imagination. His head pounded…his insides ripping, tearing…

_Admit or deny the charges, Mr. Manning._

Long minutes rolled by, the men's strained breathing banging against the walls, their heartbeats slamming against each other.

"Show me," he grunted. "Please, god, please… _do what you do… to me..."_

Rico grew cold, lying still, touching no longer. Hurt rushed up, cracking his heart… and he gasped at the _unprecedented_ pain of it. Shame pricked his eyes. When he first met _Blanco_, when he first felt that iron fist coming at him, he knew this new pimp or customer or whatever he was to be... had a sadistic side. And stupid, stupid… he thought _Blanco_ had risen above it for him. Thought they understood each other. _Trusted _his lion would never beat him again. To now ask such a thing, in this way, "_do what you do…_," punched Rico deeper than any well-planted hit. _Blanco_ in his high was once again telling Rico he was nothing but a whore and he was going to be used as one. Being high sometimes lets truths escape. He took a calming breath. Looked at those heroin eyes and hissed...

"_You're in the wrong position, my lion. You need to be on the bottom….if you want me to be Caro…"_

A flash of reason crossed _Blanco's_ features, a pause, a hesitation… but then it was gone. He glanced down at their bodies, nodded, "Okay… okay…" Moved to the side, rolling over onto his back and immediately Rico felt trembling, same as the first time they had sex in the alcove, the Cuban moon watching them. Rico gazed up and down his lion, seeing the tremors, the bed actually moving with the intensity.

Rico climbed on top, legs and arms trapping Todd whose breath had become uneven, halting. He looked terribly vulnerable this way, eyes up, worry, fear, _unknowing _playing on his lips and eyes and everywhere else. Rico took it in. Realized he was looking at very real fear. Not of tender sexual touching or of being loved… not even of playing a child in an erotic game.

No… this was an all-consuming fear of _submission_.

Rico's fury wavered now. His head swam with the knee-jerk high he got from _Blanco's_ capitulation, the knowledge feeding into his weakness, his specialty of humiliating men. He breathed and fought against the instant tightening in his balls. He groaned softly, in his own agony. He knew if the game went on too long, he'd respond. He'd get off at the degradation of _Blanco_.

He wanted to run.

"Focus, _mari_," Todd rasped. "_Por favor, para mi._"

"What is the matter with you?! Wake up! Why do you want this?! _Do you know… do you know._.."

"SHOW ME!" Todd had grabbed Rico by his arms, his grip painful. He softened his hold fast though, thumbs caressing skin, his voice dropping. "Please… do it. Just fucking do it." His eyes glistened now, waiting tears there. Madness and heroin there…

Rico wanted to run.

"You bastard," he growled instead.

He lifted himself up, muscles straining with stress, hands on either side of Todd's body, glaring at him. But once again, Rico's upset faltered at the sight of who lay beneath him. While they'd been in this technical position before, _Blanco _had a way of always being dominant… no matter top or bottom, even when letting go. Never did Rico ever feel... _on top_... even when he was. Now lay a man who had completely given up control. He wasn't _El Diablo Blanco, su león_. No, this was Todd Manning, his true self he showed no man, no woman.

Nobody, not since he _was _a child.

Rico panted now, afraid to start. Frozen. _He was Caro_. He could feel the words inside of him. He swallowed hard. His throat dry. Sweating.

_Remembering_.

"You're a beautiful boy," he purred, eyes trained on his captive, Todd's lip twitching ever so slightly. He was anything but expressionless. The fear was thick as mud, sticking to everything in the room, the musty air, the faded painted walls, the dirty door and worn wooden floor.

Rico trailed fingertips down Todd's chest, caressing his pecs, his stomach and sides, palmed his bruised ribs, returning to his nipple. His mouth was dry, tongue like cotton. The words snaked out of his head, Caro's voice smooth and comforting.

"Isn't this nice? Doesn't this feel good? Isn't it so soft? Don't be afraid, my angel, everything I do is for you."

He kept caressing, his hand touching the chest hair, shoulders and arms. moving back to his stomach, moving up. He dragged a finger on the brownish pink around Todd's nipple, the small nub hardening. Round and round he went. "Isn't this good? You're so soft… so precious. Mmmm…. beautiful, beautiful boy."

_The words, the words..._

Shuddering at the sound of his own voice, he moved down and pressed his mouth to the other nipple, his tongue lapping it stiff. Todd squirmed and his breath caught, surprising sensitivity there. Rico saw him grab the sheet into his fist and squeeze. Play they never did before, play that felt invasive, a secret Caro would have discovered because that was his thing: knowing your body, using it to get into your head. Rico couldn't help the agony of the game and reached a hand up to smooth Todd's hair, trying to ease him, trying to counter the sickening fear, knowing there was no way to do such a thing. Nothing Caro ever did, stopped the choking fear.

Rico rested his head on Todd's chest, against his terrible shaking. Rested like a boxer, not understanding why _Blanco _needed this. The memories were too close, too vivid. He sat up anyway, knees on the mattress, straddling Todd. Took off his tee-shirt. Dropped it to the floor. Pressed fingers on the Catholic medal, prayerfully, chest heaving with stress. Bending forward, one hand holding long hair, the other reached lower, slowly going down, finding his captive's crotch. Todd jerked hard at the sudden hold, gasped at it. Fists on the sheets again. Strangled fast breaths. He was in pain and Rico looked away, pushing ahead like he was asked, caressing him through his jeans.

"Don't move, my angel, it will start feeling good very soon."

Todd kicked at the metal bar, grabbed the one above his head with one hand, the other still on the sheet. He grunted soundlessly at each press of Rico's hand, each stroke, and Rico cried inside of himself because his lion wasn't anywhere near erect and that could only mean…

He… was _there_.

Rico huffed and lay hard on Todd, pulled his hand away and reached up to caress Blanco's head again, _easy, easy, _the other hand releasing hair, resting gently on Todd's shoulder_._

Stringing together the remembered lines, like tattoos on his brain, Rico murmured, "Don't be scared, beautiful precious boy… you feel so wonderful. You're so exciting. You're safe with me. I would never hurt you. What we do is what God intended for our bodies...natural, healthy…"

By this time, Todd was shivering much harder, his breathing matching. Rico held himself up again. Avoided those heroin-and-terror infused eyes because to see them would derail the game. He pressed his lips tight, and rubbed his chest against Todd's once more, arching his back like a cat, saying, "You're such a good boy. I love you." His voice was full of hurt, though, unable to convey the silk of Caro's, his effective seduction of a child. He moved like water, skin on skin. He embraced Todd, grazing lips on his neck, the beard scratchy. "That kiss tickles, yes?" He rocked his hips against Todd's like rote, rubbing, rubbing, legs encircling Todd's because that's what Caro did.

Effective sickening _work_.

Rico grunted noisily at his own erection, knowing this would happen. He pushed into Todd's neck and ran his tongue along the muscles of his lion's rough neck, ending in a hard suck on tender salty skin, bite-kissing him, feeling Todd grab at his jeans, pulling them unconsciously, maybe to get Rico to stop without actually fighting. Kicked the metal bar. Rico lapped the skin and then...

...opened his mouth again only this time it wasn't a kiss… it was a full-on _bite_. Sharp ivory edges on the skin between shoulder and neck. Fingernails scratched the metal bar, boots kicking again. Todd was resisting as much as he could without taking back any control because he couldn't. He was powerless. Like they all had been.

Rico didn't stop. Biting to mark his conquests was another Caro trademark and had to be done. He didn't stop until he knew he'd broken skin. Didn't stop until he felt tears rolling out onto Todd's cheek where Rico held hair to keep him still. He didn't stop until he heard Todd groaning in a deep, strained way, his body quaking now. Didn't stop until _Blanco _grabbed Rico by the hair and throat and yanked him up with every bit of strength in him. Eyes wide open. Breath caught. Lips parted. Frozen in this instant of knowledge.

"What...what…. what was that?"

Rico winced at the hold he was in, struggling against the tightness, "You wanted me to be Caro… _that was Caro._ He bit us. Marked us. On our necks, chest... on our backs. He then touched our parts to make up for the pain. It's what he did. You wanted this! You wanted to know! THAT was Caro!"

Todd violently shoved Rico off the bed. Hyperventilating now, groaning now, "No, no, no, no, no, no, no… that fucker, that bastard...what did he do to me… fucking god…"

_Bite me..._

How many times had he broken precious skin of women he'd loved or… fucked? How many times had he _asked _for it? Asked T-T-Téa...his beautiful passionate Téa, _oh my GOD_… how many times had she done that for him because he'd become blindingly excited… like Pavlov's dog… eyes rolling, body fired up, a straight line from his lover's teeth to his cock… _Oh my god_... how many times had he asked Gloria, Jovanna, Leticia… _oh my GOD_… he shook uncontrollably, felt blood drain, felt his whole body dissolve into nothing but revolting chemical reaction.

_Bite me… bite me now… oh FUCK, I'm gonna come… I'm coming..._

He reached forward, grabbing the tin next to the bed and vomited ugly yellow bile from the depth of him. Images smashed into his head, baseball bats of truths… _denied truths_. He was suddenly on Peter's bed again, wrists burning, and could feel teeth on his chest and a hand on his cock, rubbing, rubbing, until he was ejaculating right along with the intensifying pain, his feet digging into sheets… and he knew, knew exactly, where that connection came from, and he choke-sobbed silently into the tin, head down, hair down. Hanging off the bed, moaning noiselessly like Breaker. Like that fucking pit bull who had vocal cords cut. Retched some more. Retched until there was nothing coming, but his stomach still wanted to rid him of the _truth, truth, truth… god fucking damnit, the truth, the truth…_

_Do you solemnly swear or affirm that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?_

_I do, you fucking, fucking CUNT._

Todd groaned, belly down, boots mashed against the wall and metal. The wordless soundless voiceless noise he made was almost inhuman, a cut-off rumble full of loathing, vengeance, pure unadulterated HATE. Caro had raped him, repeatedly. Peter Manning had sold him to that Cuban bastard and would watch from the bedroom door each and every fucking time. _Oh god… god fucking damn… _He had no idea how, why, the circumstances… but it was the fucking TRUTH. No tricks, no warped imagination, no transposing of faces, no… it was the GRAND FUCKING TRUTH because his body _felt it, remembered it_. Not a vision but a real, physical memory.

"_Blanco… calmate… okay? Mi león… please…" _

He lifted his eyes, lifted his head, face revealing a kind of darkness Rico had never seen before, the child that had been full of fear only minutes ago dead, gone, murdered, disintegrated into the windowless, airless room, and Rico scrambled away from him. Smashed himself up against the shelves, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide from the demon he saw on that bed.

_Caro was going to fucking die. For EVERYTHING. Fuck prison, fuck the great government bust. He and Pedro Moreno… and every other FUCKING pedophile I lay hands on will die. Ivan? Just the beginning. Scorched fucking earth, bitch! Aaaahhhh_!

He couldn't stop shaking, couldn't stop envisioning his plan, the taste of it, the feel of it, the high of killing Caro the way he killed Ivan. He held his cock and squeezed to stop the sensation of coming on top of that motherfucker's body while draining him of his life. _Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. _And the images kept interchanging with surging brought-into-the-light memories. _God, god, god help me, oh my god_... He wiped his mouth and smacked the tin away, puke flying. Sat up on the bed, eyes bouncing everywhere, landing on nothing. His mind spun… in an unrecognizable jumble of electrified SHIT until… until…

He saw in the corner of the room, high up, a speck of the white bliss… an out.

His body twitched, jerked, the shaking becoming concentrated into single shocks of movement. He heard Rico but couldn't see him through the merry-go-round movie playing… heard him crying and it sounded like a million children who'd endured what they had endured. He wanted to go to him, wanted to grab him up into his arms and say sorry, _sorry for Caro, sorry for asking for this fucked-up shit, sorry for everything that came after, for every man who hurt you over and over and over again. I am so so so sorry… my dark haunted beautiful mari_….

...but nothing came out, nothing could.

He groaned that noise again, groaned… and knew if he sat here in this state for a single second more, he would fucking die. He could not see the cycling images for a single second more...

The white would save him.

He held his head in his hands, huffing, trying to clear the nightmare, trying to unsee Caro and Peter and he moaned now at the impossibility of it. Trying to welcome the white but...

He felt warmth and knew it was his _mari_ and he reached for him but the madness cut too deep, the hate too silencing. He felt wetness on his chest from tears and held the heat loosely and breathed… but knew he'd die anyway, even with such love, such understanding… such fucking effort. Call it karma, call it just punishment...

_Call it HELL_.

"_My god, what did Caro do to you? What, what? What did he do, Blanco?! Talk to me_!"

The white bliss whispered past him, offering itself to him and god, god, he wanted it, knew he could open his whole body to it, but...

...he wanted to kill Caro far far more.

He heard himself groaning again, hands on Rico. Ages and ages ago he learned how to stay out of the white and Rico was the way. He pulled him closer, boots kicking the wall, the metal. His _mari _caressed his face, his hair, panting kind words, so concerned, so afraid. He grabbed the warmth, fought the madness. He reached a hand for the wall, scratched the plaster, nails all the way down. The shudder brought him further into the now and he breathed deep.

Caught Rico's gaze, rasped...

"Where's... the _gun?"_

* * *

><p><em>La Habana, Cuba…<em>

Téa Delgado opened the door of her hotel balcony and took in the beauty of the place in the early hour, the Spanish, Italian, Roman and Greek… Baroque, colonial… the sheer breadth of color, the span of ages, a photographer's dream. She watched the people shuffle along the corridor, listened to church bells and cars and buses. Breathed in the air. The sea. Gorgeous, breathtaking. Her silk robe lay open, her sheer nightgown fluttering in the cold, cold that felt punishing. She ran her fingers along the metal railing, feeling the dewdrops of the morning. The sun broke through the clouds and seagulls flew overhead. Her bare feet were freezing on the concrete.

Yes, yes, she could feel him here and _Esperanza_ rolled inside of her, like a fish, like a girl finally swimming in her finally-found-home's water. _You feel him, too? He is home to you? He might kill me, you know… will you still love him? Even then?_

She turned and looked at the hulking man on the bed closest to the door, stretched out obscenely in old-fashioned basic boxers. Nothing high-end here. The ink he wore was older than Todd's, covered a lot more of him, full arms, legs, chest and neck. More Latin words, images… Cuba ran deep. Skin wasn't broadly scarred like Todd's was. She took a breath at the memory, remembered kissing them once they were deep into a sexual relationship… telling him they were beautiful because they were part of him. The thoughts hurt like hell and she rubbed her chest, where her heart was.

Rolon appeared strangely innocent on the bed. _Safe_.

They had collapsed here after their flight. No time to quibble for separate rooms, not that she wanted or asked to sleep apart from him. She was too afraid. Couldn't sleep for the stress anyway. She had watched the sun rise. She partially closed the French doors, and walked over to the bed, eying his body. She was afraid of seeing Todd. That was the truth. But she came because saving him was her life's work. Right? A damning fate, maybe. Too easily she felt the hate he'd be heaping on her. The heat from his growl, standing over her. A knife maybe… a gun maybe… maybe he'd use his hands.

She swallowed, shook away the fantasy. Lay down next to Rolon. Huddled next to him. Drew her knees up, bony kneecaps at his side. He opened one eye and muttered, "What is wrong, _mamita_?" Sniffing, he shook his head, glanced around, trying to get his bearings on time, place.

"He will kill me," she said, barely above a whisper.

He was quiet a bit, still waking up. Then murmured, "He won't. And even if he thought some fucked-up shit like that, I wouldn't let him close enough to you to do it. I promise you."

Did she trust him to protect her, really? She pressed her forehead against his side, finding ungiving muscle.

He breathed in and bit down hard, eyes on her, roving her body. "Woman…you do this often? Lie like this… next to strange men?"

"Shut up. You're talking to a pregnant woman."

He cursed in Spanish, closed his eyes. Arms still spread-eagled. Musky deodorant from his pits.

She'd spoken to Jedediah a half hour ago and he told her things were crazy, described the confrontation with Pedro Moreno, the madness of Todd offering his LIFE to Pedro, and Téa… she went a little off on him, telling him to just stay out of this. _Stick with McNair, goddamnit!_ The whole world had flipped upside down, Jed ranted, and his father… was hanging there, you know, like a bat? Upside down.

_Chased me out the house, Moms. Kept an eye on him, though, followed him to this house in the city, where he'd gone before. Couple of hours later, I saw him split with a kid in his arms. They jumped into a taxi. Lost 'em, couldn't get a car fast enough. When I got to the beach house, Gloria was scared, said Blanco disappeared but that Rico was out, gonna find him. Said she'd call if they had news… and there hasn't been shit. He's gone into the fuckin' ether with a kid. God knows what this does to his whole fuckin' cover, yeah? FUCK!_

Téa shuddered and stretched her legs, draped an arm across Rolon's belly. Everything was upside down, even this, especially this.

_"Qué haces, chica?"_

She didn't answer him, preferring to ask _him _the questions. "Why did you try to kill him?"

Rolon sighed and moved his arm, moved hers, moved over. Getting distance. Rolled onto his side to look at Téa. He shrugged, "Long story."

"Try me."

He groaned, sniffed, rubbed his face hard, scrubbing away the tiredness. Crossed his thick arms. "There was talk. Your man, he… got ideas. Moving shit around, moving MK off certain illegal shit. Going legit. Some men, they don't like that. Don't operate legal, you know? A couple… they were gonna challenge his authority. To me… it seemed that shit was likely, and I wasn't sold on legitimacy. So… someone was gonna take _Blanco_ out faster than I could knock that down and I wasn't even sure I wanted to stop it, so I thought… get him high. Get him fucked up so he get on the 'H' again… and he'd go out… peaceful and shit. On his own terms."

Téa just stared at him. "You're an asshole."

"You asked, _mamita_! I never said it was the most brilliant of ideas."

She kept that evil eye on him. He sighed, said softly, "I didn't want some kid murdering him on the street like a dog. But I got the re-grets, _mami. Trying to make up to him._" He sighed. "I knew what a mistake I had made when he tied me up, aimed a gun at my head and couldn't do it. He knew what I did, and yet he could not return the favor."

He studied her, eyes looking into the distance. He touched her hair, getting her to look at him. "Why you shoot him down, _mamita_? Like a dog, I might add."

She gazed at Rolon's green eyes in the morning light. They were alluring, full of history. He'd seen a lot of things in his life, but they were… clear, open. "I shot him," she said, "because… I'd never be free of him. I couldn't live with who he had become… and me at his side. Complicit. Still loving him, like how we love air."

"What changed? You're even more complicit now, stepping in, cleaning up legal shit."

"Maybe I realized none of it matters, his… _crimes_, his _life_, his _choices_. That… I'm part of him, and he's part of me… and I can't live without him being alive in this world. Even if we're not together. I have terrible _re-gret_, Rolon… for what I did. It made such sense in the moment."

"What I did made sense, too, at that time." He paused, just looking at her. "You still feel a part of him, even if he… he got a man? You know, _mamita,_ I was not joking… that's the word. He has a male lover, named Rico."

"God, Rolon. You say that like it means something, like I should run."

"Don't it…?"

"Who am I to be… _bothered…?_ Especially after what I did. I have no say, no right."

"I don't...uh… I don't know."

She laughed, a soft bemused sound, "Oh Rolon, thee of the double standard. If your lover, a woman you cared about, said she wanted to be with a woman, you'd be so _hot_ for it. You'd want to watch them, you'd encourage it. But the roles are switched and suddenly it's something to be horrified about? Please. What complete and total bullshit."

He knocked his head back, grinning, "_Pues, es cierto. I have seen my share of women in the act. Sure, got me going._ But… what, you'd like to see two men together? Correction, you'd want to see your man, your Todd, _con un maricon_? Come on…."

"Why not?" She teased, her voice sultry now, "Two magnificent men, locked in a passionate coupling, like Greek gods, can't tell if they're warring or fucking… all hands and muscles and heavy breathing and gorgeous erect cocks…"

Rolon laughed, sort of shocked, "Woman…. _sinverguenza!_"

"Well, why not? We women are just as base as you men, but we are also far more loving, accepting, especially when it comes to sex. Provided we are loved. I believe if he truly needed such a thing, I'd welcome that man… into our bed."

He laughed quietly, then didn't, a small smile lingering. "Ahhh… _Téa_. I find that hard to believe."

"Well…" She smiled sadly, then didn't. Sighed. Their silly banter dissipated. "I know him better than you. He's in prison, Rolon, in hell. Alone, like you said, with nothing to lose. And in that state, he will reach for whatever warmth he can find. The woman... didn't, couldn't, give enough. He is _voracious_ in his need for love... and this man..._Rico? _There is something there, a match, a yin to his yang, Rico has maybe given his soul to my husband where the other didn't. She held back. Todd is still Todd and Rico proves it to me. _Rico_ does not signify some sea change, it does not show that somehow I was married to a different man. The complete opposite is true."

Rolon furrowed his brows, then smirked, "You look too deep, woman."

"Why do you think he's with this man?"

"Because he's a fuckin' pig. 'Cause he's...fucked up. Some men stick their junk in anything that don't fuckin' move. Gloria, the other, she ran too fuckin' fast."

"You think that's your _Blanco? Sticking it wherever he can?"_

_"I do, mamita, sorry. Whores have never been about love, with him."_ He got closer to her, rasped, "_He fucks them. He doesn't love them."_

"You think there is a difference?"

"Shouldn't there be?"

They studied each other and he touched her cheek. "_Dios, _you're gorgeous, you know. No wonder he's kind of crazy when it comes to you. When you shot him, that fucked him up bad. Fucked his heart, his head. Probably THAT's why he don't want a woman right now. Nothing's like you. All women have been ruined for him."

"If that were true, wouldn't he just be celibate?"

"Go back to assumption one… he's a fuckin' pig first."

"Why didn't you marry Leticia?"

He shrugged, sudden grief in his eyes, not expecting the question. "I liked the open sea, _mamita_. I wasn't the marrying kind."

"_Y ahora?_"

"Since her death, I have wondered… that maybe the open sea is a bit too cold."

She ran a hand down his bicep… down his chest. Kept eyes on his. He licked his lips. "Jesus, _mama_…"

"You make me feel safe," she whispered. She touched all the ink she could see… and he groaned, a deep animal groan. She reached in and kissed his lips, pulling back with his lower lip between her front teeth. She wanted to up the stakes. She wanted him to feel afraid Todd would kill him, too. She wanted him a little invested in protecting her. She wanted to fuck and not think beyond the fuck. She could have been with RJ but he loved her and sex meant something far too much to him, to her.

Rolon wasn't the marrying kind, most likely still wasn't.

She threw a leg over his, and kissed him a little harder. He rolled onto his back, moving her easily, holding her by her arms, being careful with her belly. He groaned into her mouth and she felt his cock stiffening, thick. She slid down him, and slid back up, rubbing herself on him. Hormones had made her crazy, fear had made her crazy. She breathed out hard and her nightgown slipped upwards, and fast, fast, he grabbed her, and turned her over on her back. Fast, yes, but… god, he had her so securely in his hands that she landed gently. He was powerful, strong… in a way wildly different from Todd...who tended toward the _inconsiderate_. The differences between them took her breath away.

"He would kill me, _preciosa...if he learns I fucked his wife. Why are you doing this?"_

In Spanish, she murmured, _"When he makes love, he brings all his history to our bed. We make love as if we'll never see each other again, as if we've been apart for years. He makes love like he wants to eat me, as if he wants to return to my womb. He is… full of pain and hate and the kind of love that's impossible to match. He cannot feel the love unless it's brutal, intense, so….choking…" _ She had to stop talking, the emotion too much to bear. The knowledge of him, in her blood. No, the male prostitute didn't bother her. She began to see that perhaps… all that rage and madness and love just couldn't be contained, directed, managed, in one… easy… safe place. He was too cosmic for _convention_, like the sky.

"I need to feel safe," she whispered.

"Fuckin' _Blanco."_

"Shut up." She writhed beneath him, reaching down and pulling off lace, then opening her legs, her wetness slicking his thick thigh, knowing he was thinking nothing beyond his hard flesh and her waiting open core. So so different from Todd who could never just fuck, just be, just love her and satisfy her own voracious wants. "God," she moaned, "Just make me come."

More Spanish cursing from Rolon, "_Fuck, fuck, fuck…"_

She felt his muscles…broad thick weight that Todd didn't have. No, Todd's strength was always unexpected because his musculature was compacted, narrow. If Rolon was a mountain, Todd was a river. Nothing in this man's head other than her, maybe a little fear, maybe a little worry. He groaned some more and slid down, grabbing her hard by the legs, smashing his mouth on her, licking her, growling as he did it. Téa rolled her hips against his mouth, grabbing at his silken black hair. Moaning loudly, thighs parted wide, shamelessly. Without care, she thumped against him, "God, yes...yes…"

He was safe, she thought, he'd never spill this, she thought, she reasoned, she believed. Now they both would think Todd would kill them. Rolon was now _invested _in her safety_._

Téa grabbed his head and pressed hard on his mouth, coming finally, rolling her head back and moaning softly at the lasting orgasm. He hopped off the bed and dug into his bag and got back on the bed, on his knees. Ripping open the package and rolling the rubber on his hard throbbing cock.

"It's not like you can get me pregnant…."

"Look, I sleep with a lot of women, okay? Haven't been checked for shit… he'd kill me like a fucking million times over if I gave you something… and he ended up with something."

"That's funny… considering he sleeps with whores."

He was the one to say, "Shut up. I don't want to hear his name or think about him with any fucking whores…" He growled and turned her to her side, slid behind her. Held her in his arms and she felt safe… and he just continued to hold her. Sighed harshly.

"He won't hurt you, okay? He'll be angry, sure. He was hurt by you. But he needs to see you. He needs to see his people to get a sense of reality again. If Pedro says come get him… that's bad. So here we are, yeah? Trying to make up for the shit we did, yeah? Because we love him, we want him in this world, like you say. Now, don't talk. I can't think…."

Her nightgown moved up, he was moving it up. He stripped it off, threw it. She felt the condom-covered flesh on her ass and felt his mouth on her neck. A hand caressed her breasts and she sighed in his arms… he slipped inside of her and moved gently. She groaned at the feel of him… and once again, all she could think was how he made love differently. How simple and peaceful and straight-fucking for the sake of fucking…

… and how very empty.

She squeezed her eyes closed, the tears forced out and she held his head behind her as they moved in sync. She pulled away, and got up on her knees, on her hands… looked behind her at him, "Fuck me."

Yeah, she'd be empty, too. And Rolon, well, he seemed okay with that.

* * *

><p>The door clicked open… and Raquel did not slink away at the commotion she'd come upon. She'd heard them earlier, heard the low harmonious voice of Rico, then heard the sound of the bed, thought they were engaging in a tryst, thought it would be healthy. Healing. When she came back, the <em>noise<em> had taken on another kind of aggression_._ That brought out the _matador _in her. Holy hell she wasn't going to have bad shit going on in her house. Opened the damn door.

She saw on the bed a mad-looking _Blanco_ sitting up, all boots and jeans and MK color and muscle, and there in a tight violence-tinged embrace was an equally fierce-looking Rico, all beautiful skin… long slender legs in old denim stretching off the bed, like a trapped fallen angel in _Blanco's _hard hands. The two were not in accords. Only Rico seemed to realize someone else had come into the room.

Raquel took two steps to _Blanco, _got a knee on the mattress behind him, and yanked back on his forehead, getting a sharp blade at his throat. Saw a fresh bite on his neck. A quick eye to Rico - couldn't decide if the mark was passion or self-defense. _Blanco _immediately loosened his hold, mad drugged eyes looking up at Raquel.

"_What are you after, Blanco? What is it that Rico does not want to give you?"_

Rico wrenched himself out his lion's impossibly tight hold of him, getting off the bed. Chest heaving, picking up his jacket off the floor. The thing obviously weighed. Todd visibly swallowed, shivering in the chilled room, and Raquel could see he was not well, the hate having spilled out of him.

She jutted her head at Rico, telling him to stay put.

_Blanco_ glared at Raquel like a wild animal, his body shaking with suppressed rage. She stayed very calm, blade tight on his skin. He was strong and could easily break through her fragile grasp of him… but the thing was, if he moved in any direction, he'd be fatally cut. He was ill… not stupid.

"_My friend… can you talk to me? Will you tell me what you want?"_

Todd looked at her silver hair…. looked at her kind brown eyes and the madness whirled a little less noisily. Knew the gun weighed down Rico's jacket. Saw that NOW. Rico had refused to say where it was, said it was gone, but Todd had known that wasn't possible. He sniffed and rested fingertips on Raquel's strong arm. He could flip her easily. He could so easily tear her apart. He closed his eyes, the blade cold and lethal… a shock ripping through him. Caro… bit him. Over and over. Tore him up inside to the enjoyment of Peter. He needed to kill Caro, now… fast. Needed to shove that gun into Caro's mouth… needed to pull the trigger. Needed to watch the blood spray across the floor and wall. He'd jerk off on his dead body, semen all over that blown apart head.

"_Talk to me, my friend. Tell me you will be calm if I let you go?"_

Words caught in his throat, air caught in a gasping groan at the feel of the kill. He couldn't hear her. Her lips were moving but he could not hear the words. He looked at Rico… saw the fear there. Felt the fear deep inside of himself. Scared boy who did not understand why such confusing things were happening to him. Eyes back up to Raquel. He leaned back a little, his head in her tight dangerous embrace, offering more of his throat to her. He was barely contained and he growled...

Raquel turned to Rico, said quietly, _"He is in a state of terrible trauma. I am not sure how to help him. Can you go to his house and get Abram and a change of clothes?" _ She saw a deep sadness in Rico… added, "_Mi chiquito, do this for him. For the love of him… do this."_

Rico bit his lip to stifle a sob. Love! Love? He didn't even know what that WAS. "_I just did what he asked… he wanted to know information… and he became overwhelmed."_

"_You didn't do this. It was already there. Go. He will behave… he knows I will cut his throat otherwise." _She spoke louder, eyes firmly on Todd's. "_Verdad? You know you will die from my blade, yes?"_

When Rico moved to leave, Todd jerked toward him, the knife pricking his skin, stopping him cold. He reached an arm out… rasped, "Give it to me, you fuckin' bitch."

"_Stay still my friend. My knife is sharp."_ She held him tightly in her arm, her knee and thigh at his back, her other leg firmly on the ground, giving her a lot of leverage. His strength threatened her grip, but her blade effectively countered his effort.

Rico held a hand tight at his eyes, pained. Got his tee-shirt on, jacket in hand. Said, _"I will get Abram, clothes, I will be back, mi león." _He pointed a finger at Todd, "I'm trying to save you! You have to think first before you get to Caro!"He ran out the door and Todd groaned like he'd been cut already, wounded, gutted. He pulled up his legs, writhed a little. Dragged agony-filled eyes back to Raquel. She kicked back, kicking the door shut. Watched him look at her, seeing tears roll out. She slowly let go of him. He swallowed and held a hand to his throat, blood beneath fingers. Eyes followed her as she moved away from him. Grabbed the chair and sat it hard in front of him. She sat with knees apart. Sat with that knife on her leg. Ready.

In English she said, "The little girl. She not speak. She has shock. Are you a good man? Help her? Do you need heroin?"

The wild animal on the bed breathed in deeply. He heard _heroin_. Heard its name and remembered Raquel had black tar. He looked across the room at the shelves, at the desk where she'd melted the thick glop into liquid. He rubbed his arms, the crook of his elbow… he rubbed it over and over. Being high was the only way to stop him from throwing Raquel against those shelves, tearing out of here… and finding Caro, Moreno, whoever he could get his hands on.

"_Blanco!"_

He heard that and jumped, eyes on her. Rasped, "I can't hear you." Waved a hand in front of his face, shaking his head, "The crazy… it's blocking everything. I can't hear you, I can't hear you, I can't fucking HEAR YOU."

Raquel got up and stood over him, looked at him. Held his face in her hands. "Will heroin help?" In Spanish she asked, "_Will heroin help you calm down so you can help the little girl?"_

Again, heroin is what he could make out. "_Heroin… yes, yes…_" He could barely say the words, seeing her, her lips moving, saying nothing… some clarity happening anyway. He did not want to hurt Raquel, this he KNEW. Images kept dragging him into darkness and suddenly he jumped, feeling her pulling his arm and checking for veins. He'd missed the entire setup. He handed her his shaking hand… "Better…"

"_Yes, I see that. Okay."_

She pricked his hand, finding thick plentiful veins there, and pushed the heroin. Pulled the needle out and she rubbed the weeping hole in his hand. He crumpled into himself, feeling the drug move through him. As the dope travelled, the images faded. His lips parted and he breathed out in a kind of ecstatic moan. Tears rolled down his face and he nodded, "Yes, yes, yes…" It wasn't an amount to slam him into the black, but it was enough to quiet the noise to a dull white static. He gave his body a solid shake and pulled his legs up under him, curling up against the wall, face hard against the cold plaster. He panted like a fucking dog and watched Raquel clean up the room, wiping down the mess he'd made at some unknown point.

"_Where is Rico?_"

Raquel smiled to herself. _Blanco_ knew his madness well. She turned to him from the floor, tin in one hand, towel in the other. "_He went to your house to get Abram and clothes." _ She looked at him, serious gaze. "_Rico was very upset. What happened with both of you?"_

"_I was stupid. Asked him to tell me about his rapist."_

She dropped her head, shaking her head. _"Manuel Caro."_

"_You know him."_

"_Yes, he is a very sick man."_

"_Well, it turns out, he's my rapist too." _ He laughed, a little hysterically. "And I'm going to kill him. I had other plans but they're off the fuckin' table now."

Raquel sat on the bed in front of him. "_Caro raped you?"_

"_I was twelve."_

"_I am sorry, my friend." _ She reached out and caressed his face, wiping fresh tears that rolled out. "_Did he also hurt the little girl?"_

"_I'm sure he did. But the one who caused the more immediate damage… was another… and he's gone now."_

"_You killed him."_

"_I killed him."_

"_Did the child see that?"_

"_No."_

"_Can you see her? Are you well enough to help her?"_

"_I can't help anyone, Raquel."_

"_Let us see about that."_

Raquel got to her feet, stepped outside the door. Taking the dirty works with her. In a moment, the door opened and little Alicia was in the arms of Raquel. Big eyes. Terrified eyes. Todd turned away because he started to cry like a fuckin' baby. He pressed his face against the plaster wall, hand fast on his mouth and nose to shut himself up, forcing himself to stop. When he turned, Raquel put the little girl down and she climbed onto the bed. She got onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Looked up at him.

"Is your dog here?"

Raquel closed her eyes, breathed out hard. The child hadn't said a word. Until now.

Todd choked out words, the only ones he could manage, "Abram is coming." He tentatively wrapped his arms around HER. "Did you sleep, Alicia?"

She nodded and just rested her face against Todd's bare chest. He didn't want it… he didn't think it was right, but there was no moving her. Her hand slid to where his heart would be. Her palm flat on his skin. "You are my friend. Manny said he was my friend. He was nice. He said nobody would hurt me but that man hurt me. You are nicer."

Todd turned his face again, pressed it to the plaster. Fighting the hurt… fighting images. The heroin wasn't quite enough. He'd need more, he knew. More and more… and he needed it mainlined. It was the only thing that was going to help him now.

Without it… he'd lose his shit forever.

"I promise," he rasped, "nobody will hurt you again." He looked at Raquel. "_Call the Arms hotel. Ask for Ken McNair. Tell him I have a child who needs to be picked up. He can be trusted. Tell him...Alicia from San Juan, PR."_

Raquel smiled, "Yes. Thank you, _Blanco._" Disappeared out of the room. He rested against the metal frame, moving her. Letting her rest against _him_. He drifted in his high, listened to her say words he could not quite make out. She smiled a little though. A good sign she wasn't talking about Caro. An hour later, Abram hopped onto the bed and Alicia really smiled and laughed. The two got onto the floor and he watched the girl get licked and loved by Abram. Rico was at the door. Ken McNair behind him.

_Kenny_. He hadn't really seen him since that night in Statesville so long ago. The glimpse of him at the beach house, across the street from Elon's house that one night… those didn't count. Not like this_… Let me love you, let me touch you, let me...let me...just tonight… _His boots kicked the metal and he sat up. Bobbed his head at a warm smile. Thanked god for being drugged. Seeing him up close would hurt, bring too much back of Statesville. Rico got on the bed next to him. Plopped down hard on the old mattress. He lifted a bag and placed it front of Todd. "Clothes, my lion." The thing landed heavy.

"I got her, Manning," Ken said softly from the doorway. "Raquel described her to me, sent a picture. She's going home. She was abducted three years ago from San Juan, Puerto Rico. You're a fuckin' hero."

"Don't…"

"Don't argue. It's true."

The girl then had to go. She threw herself at Todd and gave him a hug. It was hard for Ken to pry her off. She moved eventually when Todd made more promises. She looked up at Ken and took his hand. Todd gave her an assuring smile, a wink of a sort. Ken disappeared with her.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Todd whispered to Rico, Rico pulling him into his arms, Todd too weak to fight, too broken. Let himself be held against Rico's chest, arms tight around him. Let himself get kissed. They just lay quietly… nothing to say really. There weren't enough apologies in the world to make up for what had happened... today, yesterday.

Rico put something in Todd's hand, Todd looking back at him with haunted eyes.

"Do whatever you have to do," Rico murmured. "I will be right behind you."

Soon after, when Pedro Moreno stood in the doorway of this quiet sanctuary, Todd took a moment. Eyed his putative father, eyed the man that had meant something to him, that had loved Todd in his own way. Eyed the man who ran a child-trafficking-pornography fucking empire. He lifted the gun in his hand, took the safety off. Pointed it right at Pedro. Center mass, close range. Growled from Rico's blessedly hard hold on him...

"You're going to die, motherfucker. Right here, RIGHT NOW."

**To be continued...**


	49. Chapter 49

**Caged**

**Chapter 49**

"_You're going to die, motherfucker. Right here, RIGHT NOW."_

Pedro had followed an unaware Rico to Raquel's place, then retrieved Rolon from his hotel. Rolon didn't know what was going on but went with it. Pedro had been unusually reticent. The two men had argued their way inside, promising they were unarmed, promising all Pedro wanted was an apology. Not get one, _give _one.

Apology for what?

The woman in the khaki work pants with the knife sheathed at her side finally relented, pointed a finger up the stairs, arms crossed. "_Bueno suerte," _she had said. "_He is not in a listening mood, my friends."_

True THAT.

Rolon rounded the doorway, right behind Pedro who stopped cold and murmured, _"Stay very calm, hermano." _ This wasn't just… "not a listening mood" they walked into. No, they had stepped into a fucking trifecta of mortal risk. A black Beretta nine-mill pointed at Pedro, dead-center. Abram had his big black head lowered, growling low and deadly like Cerberus, the three-headed dog out of Greek mythology that guarded the gates of Hell. And the final panel... the completion of the trinity: _Blanco_ himself, the sprawling Mad King, completely unhinged, the biggest danger of all.

"_What is the matter, Padre… you are not ready to give your beating heart to me?" _ He laughed, the sound low, staccato. Stared at Pedro a long minute, aiming the gun…

Holy FUCK, was all Rolon could think. He hadn't seen his friend in over six months…he expected bad… but this… THIS…. He immediately thought of Téa, worried for her now where he really hadn't been before.

_El Diablo Blanco _lay languidly against a Latin young man whose arms held him, whose deep brown eyes seemed to hold a lot of secrets… and whose passivity told Rolon who held the power in this relationship. Rolon guessed in one second this was Rico, the lover. Long unruly hair fell over _Blanco's_ shoulders and loosed locks lined his face. Dark circles purpled skin beneath his eyes and hate set his bearded jaw tight. A slight grin played on his lips. The new MK ink on his belly shocked Rolon, a shift to loud and proud. His knee was up, tick-tocking back and forth, a bare foot on the floor. He cocked his head, one eye open, aiming. The gun twisted a few degrees in the air.

"_Mi hijo_…"

"Your _son? _I am not your _son_." Todd pushed off the bed, standing tall and wrecked and straight out of Statesville. He stepped toward Pedro, the limp intimidating, the gun more so. The serious bite on his neck didn't make things any better. Rolon jumped in front of Pedro, cursing, "Hell are you doing?"

Abram barked at Rolon until Todd shushed him with a sharp command, "B_asta_!" He didn't stop pointing his weapon, didn't shift his gaze from Pedro. Rico drew his legs up, criss-crossing them, watching the exchange with mild curiosity. A kind of disconnect. Odd comfort at being a witness to confrontations with guns. Todd glared at Rolon, hissing, "Get the fuck out of my way… _hermano."_

Pedro lay a hand on Rolon, "_Let me talk to him." _After a few moments of silent refusal, the soldier moved, not far, inches really, still close enough to slam Todd if he had to.

"Why do you want to kill me, _Blanco_?"

"Why… why…why do I want to kill you…," Todd mused, his voice low and thick. He licked his lips, the madness shining in his light eyes, a rumbling noise coming from his throat he probably did not know he was making. He was like a rabid dog, an animal in a trap… thirsty, starving, crazy from entrapment. Something had broken in him the night of the little girl's rape and Pedro had seen the break when his son had stared into the computer's camera back at Caro's house. He had heard it through the door that night. And knew it at the feel of dead Ivan's broken bones.

"You don't really need to ask, do you?"

Eyes on the black weapon, Pedro sighed heavily…a sinking _confirmation_ coming to him. Caro hadn't been sure that _Blanco_ knew of their shared history… but the madness told Pedro that indeed, _Blanco knew. _Yes, he knew what Caro had done to him and wanted retribution, reparation, and he was going to start at the top… _Pedro Moreno._

He then took a page from _Blanco's _own book. He slowly reached for the gun, gently enclosing it in both his hands, and said in a quiet voice, "Will killing me heal you from what Manuel did to you when you were a child? From what your father did to you?"

To hear the words out of a stranger's mouth punched Todd in the gut. His face crumpled, emotion threatening to erupt, but he shut it down cold, eyes skipping down Pedro's features. Down further to Pedro's hands on the gun, burnished skin lined with age and experience. Words caught in his throat.

Behind him, Rico rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, shifting on the bed. Lost in his own thoughts. Rolon did not know what the FUCK was going on and he was this-close to tearing this shit down. What did Manuel do to _Blanco _when he was… a _child_?

"My son," Pedro rasped, "They were unspeakable crimes. Unforgivable crimes. I cannot make up to you for them. But if giving my life… will _help_ you… then I GIVE it. As you were willing to do, I am equally willing."

Rolon grumbled, "Pedro… what are you doing?"

"Something I must," he said. "Yes, my son? Yes?"

Todd turned slightly to Rico, hissing, "He's saying he _knows."_ Chuckled darkly. "You know NOTHING of what he did to me, to my _mari, _to countless other children, over and over. You know _nothing._ If you knew, Caro would be dead. And he's not is he? IS HE?!"

"No."

A violent shudder rolled through Todd and he pressed the gun tighter against Pedro's chest. Whispered, "_You know nothing_." He then spoke through teeth slammed tight together, his lip lifting in a dog's snarl, "I want to see the blood fly… I want that heat, that wet, dripping red… I want to see that…to _taste that._" Raised the gun under Pedro's chin. All he had to do was pull the trigger.

"That's enough…," Rolon put a firm hand on Todd… trying to push him back… "_Hermano...please... I cannot let you do this." _ Except of course Todd didn't move, his body heavy, on solid footing, the gun pressed tightly against Pedro's throat.

Pedro's tired eyes gazed at _Blanco's…_ searching for the man he knew. Others would put _Blanco_ down, end him. He was no longer useful, a critical risk to MK's sanctity and health. His mind was gone. It would not be difficult. Rolon could disarm him quickly and put a bullet into his head… quickly. They'd have to take out Rico, too. Gloria was safe. Tears wetted his eyes. He just had to say the word. The solution was obvious.

"_Mi hijo...lo siento mucho_."

Todd got fired up, stepping forward into Rolon's cool hold, "SORRY? What does _sorry _even mean? Every day you let Caro hurt children… _unspeakable _hurts, _unforgivable _hurts. YOU run an organization that takes children from their homes, their beds… feeds them to monsters… who eat them alive. EAT THEM ALIVE!" Todd huffed, paused…

Abram whimpered at his feet, Rolon growling, straining to keep Todd in place. _Caro, Caro_… he knew him. What was this about? Children? Rolon turned a little, questioning, Pedro shaking his head in response. The gun could so easily go off. Pedro was letting this happen and Rolon was as restricted as Abram. The dog looked up at him, waiting for someone to make the call on what he was supposed to do. They were all in a fucking impasse… _un punto muerto._

"And all that… is in front of a camera. The money those children make for you, feeds you, feeds _your _children, buys you clothes, cars, homes… your empire has been built… on their backs…. on their broken souls…" He growled, "How do you live with yourself?"

"I cannot do so any longer."

"Since when?"

"Since I learned the truth. Of you."

"Because you learned of ME?" He laughed. "How long have you known? How did you learn of it?" The cold smile quit. "How, _Padre,_ did it FEEL to learn of it?"

Pedro looked at him, "I am sorry for my part in what happened to you. To Rico. To all the children who have been Caro's victims."

Rolon gathered that Caro… was a molester. Cameras? Pornography. But what did Pedro have to do with it? Kill CARO! Caro obviously. He groaned… "Come on, _Blanco...go after Caro..."_

"_Come on?_ You want me to stop? Don't judge me, judge _him. Judge our blessed Padre..._" Todd gasped silently, the gun right there under Pedro Moreno's chin. It would be so… so easy. "I need to do this," he whispered. "I need to see you die. For them. For every child you have allowed to be murdered under your watch. You make me SICK. YOU are the worst kind of pedophile."

Now this gave Rolon pause. Pedro put his arms out to his side, mimicking what Todd had done at the beach house, before the killing of Ivan.

"I understand your hate, _Blanco, _I understand now. Why you had to kill Jessie Horenda, why you killed Ivan. Why you will finish Caro. And now… why you need to kill ME. I UNDERSTAND."

He moved his hands slowly, wrapped them around Todd's hands, cold hands devoid of sweat, devoid of all fear. _Blanco_ was ready to kill Pedro and Pedro felt ready to die in a way. He agreed with _Blanco. _He was the worst kind of criminal… the one who had the power to change things, stop things… but chose not to, instead, enabling the crimes of others. Yes, ten years ago he'd have put _Blanco _down. Today… he was ready to be the one to die.

"My son, _mi hijo bastardo, _I love you more than my own family, my own sons. If I had been there, if you had been MINE, I would have killed Manuel myself. I would never have let anyone hurt you the way he hurt you, the way your own father hurt you. If YOU had been lying on a bed, broken, damaged, torn… I would have wrapped YOU in a blanket, I would have taken YOU into my arms… and carried YOU far away from those monsters. YOU would have been safe in MY arms. Had you been MINE."

Todd could not look away from Pedro and he breathed harshly, his finger on the trigger. Over and over he saw the blood spray if he shot the gun. Imagined how he'd feel. The sound popped in his head. He felt wetness roll down his face. What was he hearing? What were these words? How would his life had been… had someone killed Peter Manning? Had someone wrapped _him _in a blanket and carried _him _away?

Would he have been saved?

Rolon put two and two together… and instinctively squeezed the shoulder of his old friend. He had been wounded many years ago and clearly… Manuel Caro was a culprit. A terrible coincidence, a terrible chance it seemed to be that Pedro was close to him. He murmured, "_Blanco… Blanco…"_

"My son, let me keep you safe… TODAY. Let me take you away from Caro. Take you home."

Todd couldn't untangle the words, couldn't make sense of them. He looked at Pedro… up and down, looked at his eyes. His face.

"Home? I have no home to go to," he rasped.

"Then let me make a new one for you. Come home to MK. Come to MY home. Let me be a real father to you."

"No, no, no…it is so fucking late for that..."

The crazy banged in his head, pure chaos, the trigger hot in his fingers. _Home? A father?_ Joke's on him. He eyed Rolon. Somewhere inside of him a rational part of him suspected Rolon wasn't in favor of killing Pedro, but he also knew Rolon didn't know shit other than Todd wanting to knock Pedro off the throne. He writhed against his grasp and mewled softly at the raving desire to pull the trigger. God, he wanted to do it so fucking bad and felt it all through his body, down in his balls, in his gut… he pressed the nine into the man's throat… aimed up… he could do it now… could do it… but another strange rational thought broke through the mad want, a bright stab of _thinking_: Raquel would never let him back in the _paladar _if he blew Pedro's head off_._ He needed her kindness. Her understanding. But mostly...

...he needed her for the heroin. He about laughed. A murder prevented by his own base need to be high.

_FUCK ME. Fuck me good and hard… reparations… restitution… vengeance… served cold, yeah? After I dose up once more. And maybe right after THAT, and okay, maybe in a few days… or weeks..._

He weakened, legs just giving. Rolon caught him, the gun dropping. He held the piece tight in his hand though. Still. Pedro breathed a sigh of… something, Rico shifting on the bed again, noisily.

Pedro held Todd's gaze, Todd fully in Rolon's grasp. Letting himself be restrained by Pedro's own dog. The dope, doncha know… waited for him. Abram rubbed his body against his legs. He asked softly, "What are you gonna DO, _Padre?"_

"I will fix things with the power I HAVE. Give me a chance to to make up for what monsters have done… to so many."

"Fuck you," he whispered. Stood stronger. He put the safety back on and stuck the piece into the waistband of his jeans. No fucking way was he letting that weapon out of his sight. _He needed it._

Rolon cursed in Spanish and finally released Todd, Rico flying off the bed, startling everyone. He crashed into _Blanco_ from behind, wrapping an arm around his belly, the other around his chest. Todd grunted from the strength in the hug, being propelled forward and having to dig in his feet to prevent himself from falling. Felt Rico's cheek flat on his shoulder blade, words being whispered, words… that cut deep into his heart and soul. Todd glanced down and pressed a hand on Rico's.

When he looked up, Pedro took a step back at the hate in his son's eyes. He was daring him to _see _what Caro had helped create. _Rico_. Pedro nodded, knowing he had only bought himself time, and said, "Okay, my son, okay. We will work on a plan. I promise you… you will get your justice."

Todd turned to Rico, said softly, "Don't be afraid." Words that Rico had told Todd a million times. Rico loosened his grip but didn't move from Todd's side. His own justice-seeking glare landing on Pedro.

Todd asked, "Why is Caro still alive? His breathing makes me doubt you."

"He confessed only last night. I want to think on what to do. I want to talk to you about this." He smiled sadly, "_Blanco, _you are my right hand...I do not like to take action until I talk to you. So yes, he still breathes." Pedro moved closer, "Come to the beach house, my son."

"Not yet. You leave. I am here because I need... _silence_. I cannot be around… _there_. I need days… I need to regain myself."

"_El doctor_ is giving you drugs. They are no good for you."

Todd laughed, "They are keeping me less crazy! THIS is me on drugs." He groaned, rubbed his face. "Now go, you and Rolon. Leave me. Be grateful for every fucking breath you take, _Padre_. Each one is a gift...from ME. Me on drugs. I would not have hesitated otherwise."

Pedro did not argue further. He took a long lasting look at his son who dropped his gaze to Abram and listlessly ran a hand in his ratty long hair, the other on Rico's arm. Rico did not stop looking at Pedro with those dark eyes. Eyes that showed terrible… terrible things. The connection between them was clear now. They had both survived Caro and other crimes against them. Of course, of course.

* * *

><p>Outside in the fresh air, Pedro leaned against the wall, trying to recover, trying to make sense of the past two days. To organize his thinking. Perhaps <em>Blanco<em> should not have let him go. The work in front of him was immense. Perhaps impossible. How to undo Caro's safety net? He needed to regain himself, as _Blanco_ had said. He needed to BE the king of the Mambo Kings so he could make things right, repair the great hole that now existed in the fabric of his existence.

MK's existence.

Rolon came crashing down the alley. He grabbed the front of Pedro's shirt. Pushed him hard against the wall. Disrespect, yes, but he needed goddamn answers.

"What was _Blanco _talking about up there? Manuel Caro? What? Talk to me! What did Caro do to him? What did _Blanco _mean about hurting children?! PEDRO!"

Pedro noticed the distinct dropping of the term, _Padre. _He shook his head and laid a hand on Rolon's shoulder to settle him. "I am ashamed," he said. "I have been protecting Manuel Caro since he was a child. He is like a brother to me. But he is a sick man. And my protections have led to me being blind and to the…to the _unthinkable_." He then broke the truth down into simple facts. Explained one side of the Mambo Kings business that Rolon did not know.

The child pornography-trafficking ring.

Rolon stepped back, sick to his stomach. He had no idea. "And this _Caro… _he did something to _Blanco?"_

Pedro nodded. "I did not know of it before yesterday. I do not know how it happened, or why, or anything other than it seems likely because I remember some business in Chicago many many years ago. But yes." The details that Pedro shared were horrific. Rolon found he could hardly look at Pedro Moreno. He closed his eyes and then turned away. It all made sense now. Everything. Rico especially.

"Rolon, please get him to come to the beach house… let us talk…"

Rolon walked away. He could not _see _Pedro at the moment. He could not believe MK had such disgusting dealings. He got the guns from way back, the drugs, the gambling. But he believed in MK's goal of bringing money into Cuba, of raising Cuban-American men into strong, powerful forces. He BELIEVED. Despite his wanting to escape the trappings of MK, despite his being ready for _Blanco _to take over or not take over or what the fuck ever… he fucking BELIEVED. He glanced down at his body, at the clothes that covered years of devoted MK service in ink… what did it all mean now that he knew MK contributed to child… _pornography_? The abduction of _children_?

"Rolon! Rolon! Please!"

He kept walking, started running, having to get the fuck away from the stench of the TRUTH. Maybe _Blanco_ was right. Maybe he should have blown Pedro's brains out.

* * *

><p>They were in a better room, down the street actually. It was a private boarding house, <em>una casa particular, <em>that Raquel's cousin ran. The place only had a few rooms, but they were all bright, small, quaint. Books lined shelves, a delicate china tea set on an antique dresser. A tray of discards from lunch sat on a corner table. A bathroom down the hall for them to use. The sheets on the big bed were high end, high thread count… the kind at home... soft, soft. The windows provided a view of the more beautiful side of the red-light district. Color and cobble stones and narrow streets. The unscreened windows were open, letting in cold air but it felt good, right.

A couple of hours had rolled past and Todd curled up slightly, on his side. Gloria had come and gotten Abram. Rico had called her, said the day was a bad one. She was so worried. Asked about _Blanco… _Rico explained_...he's too fucked up on dope to care for a dog. Doesn't even want to go back to the beach house, but I got him. I'll watch him. _

_How are YOU, _she asked. _Rico? Rico? _He hung up at that.

Todd wore nothing but boxer-briefs and nothing hurt thanks to the heroin he cajoled out of Raquel. He had a few days worth of everything he needed. Needles, latex, spoon, cotton… black tar heroin. A few days was all he wanted. He'd be better. He'd not take enough to drop him, but enough to placate his on-fire nerves. Enough to make the madness tolerable. Enough to let him remember that Pedro remained alive along with Caro and he needed a better plan. Blood had to wait for the crazy to subside.

He studied Rico with drugged eyes and whispered a "sorry." Again and again he said it, and Rico said it sounded like he was saying one sorry for every child Caro had hurt that _Blanco _could not stop, could not fix. Maybe. Rico smelled good. He had just lay down on the bed, in a towel only. They had now both showered, had eaten, had drunk much needed water. The afternoon lingered. Wintry light poured into the room.

Something was off about Rico. Though high, Todd could see he was drifting in his own way. Something absent in his eyes. Shit. He felt as guilty as he could feel...

"What do you need, _mí mari? I hurt you today. I am-"_

Rico kissed him to shut him up, to stop him from saying sorry yet again, throwing a leg over. Todd kissed him back after a bit, an easy thing he found. Even easier on dope. He let himself be pushed onto his back, let a towel-less Rico crawl on him and kiss him roughly, teeth knocking, tongue deep in his mouth. Bodies close, closer. Todd held him by the hair, by his neck. Their legs intertwined. He had gotten used to this. Even liked it. Found he liked Rico's subtle aggression. He liked being the one who was being eaten… the subject of someone else's mad need. It was different from… his brain fizzed. Let himself say her name in his head. Different than being with… _Téa_. He wasn't sure he could articulate _how _other than with her… he was the one doing the consumption. He was the one crushing HER. She had her own strength, though… her own breathless heat. Fuck. He couldn't think about her. The bullet scars burned all the way through him. Focused on killing people, on Rico touching him.

Held Rico's head in his hands just to look at him. He then caressed his smooth skin, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. He ran fingertips down Rico's features, his cheekbones, his lips, along his jawline.

"Tell me what you need…I have dope… what do you have?_"_

Rico sighed, eyes on Todd's lips. "Can you go out later? I want to feel the night air."

"That's what you need?"

Rico looked hard at Todd, "What I need... is for you to fuck me...inside."

Todd looked away, pulled away. He was drifting bad. And it was fucking good and it made him want to cry for the loss that was to come in a few days. And all the heroin in the world would not permit him to fuck Rico that way. He could not give him what he wanted, needed. He didn't love him enough to do it, and he was way past loving him too little to do it. Said, "sorry," again.

"Don't."

Rico slid down and pulled the boxers off his lion, moved up… took his heavy cock into his mouth. Todd grabbed his hair, letting him. Just letting him. Fuck the lines he used to believe in. He jerked his hips, moving in and out of Rico's mouth, holding Rico's roving hand against his chest. He huffed and rolled his eyes, the feeling intense. The feeling… intensely distracting from all the shit. A boost to his already-boosty heroin high. He groaned and rubbed his feet against the sheets, legs sliding against Rico. Flashes of Caro came to him all of a sudden, Peter. Peter. Lines weren't about morals. _No, no, no…_ he whimpered and pulled Rico up, pulled him close, held him tightly in his arms. Panting. Whispered against his ear, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, do what you want."

He rolled Rico over onto his back, pressed his cock against Rico's and moved because he was still hard. He reached in between them and fisted Rico's flesh, Rico reacting to it, writhing at the touch, grunting softly. That came easier, too. Familiar heat. He tried not to think of things, just doing the touching like rote. But sometimes he did think things, ugly things… but then just focused on what it would feel like to be touched like that. Just the surface of it. Looked into his _mari's _eyes and watched his reaction and felt the heat and that kept him somewhat present. It did something to him to see Rico in this state. He didn't know what it was. He'd never paid such attention before to the shift into sexual disconnect. His mouth was usually buried in…pussy… or he was too lost in his own disconnect while his cock was buried in pussy.

Here… where he was only focused on Rico… he saw everything.

Rico held him tightly, thrusting into his hand. He breathed fast, made soft moaning sounds. He couldn't take it, saying he needed to slow down. "Your hand, I love it on me… but I come too fast…" He kissed his lion fiercely, moving his hand down and grabbing them both. But then he just lay back, arms up, wanting Todd to just rub against him. It always slowed things down.

"Come," he whispered. "Just come, _mí león."_

Todd got his hands on the sheets and held himself up, worked his hips, huffing as he did, hair falling down on Rico. He humped his _mari_, their stiff cocks providing the required friction, and he got into a needed rhythm. When Rico touched his ass, kneading his muscled cheeks, Todd's vision blurred and he got fast and furious, as they say. The bed banged mutedly against the wall, the men noisy in their hard breaths. And Rico watched him… fingertips now on his parted lips… they watched each other… but then Rico slammed his eyes shut and pitched his head back because an orgasm wracked him. The combined sight of ecstasy on Rico's face and the pulsing come, his cock suddenly slipping on wetness, cut into Todd and he followed soon after. He shuddered with the spasms, his breath jammed in his throat. Finally, he collapsed onto Rico.

They rested in each other's arms, catching their breaths. No words escaping them other than curses. The hell of the day rotated around them. Rico seemed clearer-eyed when Todd looked. And he looked for a long time at this man in his arms… it was so confusing, so strange and yet… right? Like it had always been this way?

"Fuck," he groaned. He pushed his mouth against Rico's neck, holding Rico tightly against him, and said a truth…a truth he did not understand that just crawled out of his mouth from deep inside. "I love you, okay? Not going to say it again."

"_Coño_," Rico grunted, scrambling away from him. "Don't fucking SAY that. I don't even KNOW what this IS. And if I don't, YOU don't."

Todd breathed a quelling breath, exhaled. Closed his eyes. He was too fucked up to analyze any more and wasn't going to argue the point. Felt Rico clean him up. The soft towel caressing his belly. Heard the thing hit the wall. Felt him lie next to him. Not too closely. Todd gazed at him.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"_Para qué_… now?"

"For not _fucking _you. For saying things that bother you. For scaring you today. For bringing Caro back into your head against your will. For not killing Pedro the moment we saw him."

Rico sighed and pulled the beard of Todd. Held onto it as he spoke. "Pedro is not the enemy. Caro is. I believe Pedro. I believe what he says. We can still make a change? End it? Killing one or both...may not end it."

"What do you mean?"

Rico caressed Todd's hair, ran a hand down the locks. "_Blanco, _if Caro dies and Pedro too, maybe,… the system stays. The men who buy from Caro, the takers of the children still in captivity, they will get away with everything. Maybe you will go to jail. Maybe… the whole idea of the police coming … maybe it will all fail. The system… will continue. The children will stay trapped." He ran a hand along Todd's chest, along his hip. Ran a hand along the scars on Todd's arm. The horrible cuts he had done… so long ago. "_Mí león, I would rather see this whole system taken down than have just the pleasure of seeing one or two men die. Even if one is Manuel Caro."_

Todd sat up, his face crumpled in disbelief. But he was hearing reason. Rico sat up, too. "Maybe this is love," he said, "what you think of it, how you think of it, but whatever it is… you said you had a job. To END Caro. Well… let us END him in the way you told me at the beginning. What he did was unforgivable. To both of us… but why should anything change just because YOU are a victim, too? If you love me, and all the kids… maybe death is too good for him." 

* * *

><p>The city street was alive with music and sex and a warm break in the winter. Téa walked among the people in the early evening. She'd left Rolon behind despite his fury. He fought hard to keep her in the hotel or at least to let him accompany her. But she didn't want him. She wanted the streets. His upset over the reality of MK was hard to handle. His shock. His dire warnings about Todd were equally as hard to handle. She was not afraid anymore. Yes, she knew he was unhinged, yes, yes, she knew the hate that ran cold in him. But she had to face him alone. Besides, based on Rolon's story, Todd was probably well hidden, deeply high in a dingy room somewhere.<p>

"Do not worry about ME," she hissed before storming out of the hotel room. She did a number of twists and turns and was glad to be rid of him. She ate dinner in a sweet restaurant run by a kindly couple. Delicious steak. She needed the protein. She wore her usual black. She sat on a bench on the main street. Watched the people pass. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the sea and food and exhaust and listened to the cars and the people and the sounds of Cuban jazz and salsa and American rock all blending together. She sat for a long while in that delicious space.

A voice hit the back of her head like a baseball bat. HIS scratchy voice. Speaking Spanish. He was giggling… he was high. Téa heard the heroin in the rasp and would have from a mile away. He was out in the world, not holed up.

"_You are crazy, mari. More crazy than me."_

"_That is a very hard line to reach."_

"_Tell me again…."_

"_Down this way and to the left. Then you'll be at my old bar."_

He was mere feet away. She heard his feet stop. Heard the other say, "What is wrong?"

"I don't know."

Téa turned and… took a breath at seeing Todd again. _My god_. The two were turned toward each other and even though they were headed away from her, she could see their faces. Tears shot to her eyes at the sight of him… the wild hair, the tired eyes, the heroin that was back in full _fucking _glory. He was mainlining again and it twisted her stomach into knots. And the other one… the man next to him. _Rico. _He was looking at Todd with concern, questioning… he was gorgeous. A diamond-in-the-rough. Silky hair, slender body… almost as tall as Todd. He wasn't broken-appearing like Brandy had been. He was different… and yet, the same. She figured she was right about him. He had given _everything_ to Todd and THAT was why Todd would prefer him to Gloria. Rolon had warned her about him.

_It's bad, mamita, he's… with him, you know? No shame. No awareness of what we might think. He is like a king. He fucks who he wants and fuck you if you object._

_It's not about fucking, Rolon. He needs him. He needs what the man is giving him… everything._

They started walking again, their voices fading. Téa got up, following them. She could not help it. She could not take her eyes off Rico. He walked smoothly, taking long strides. So different from Todd who hunched as he walked. Hands buried in his jacket. That slight limp that forever gave him a swagger he could not help. Todd's beauty was different… his was wild and dangerous and simmering. Still. Always. He reached a hand out and felt the walls along the street. He stopped every so often, _Rico_ pulling him along by the sleeve of his jacket. It killed her. The little pull, the need to hold the wall… god damnit. God fucking damnit.

They came to a bar, a dark, dirty place. A door that looked to be part of the wall rather than a separate piece.

"Are you sure?" Todd asked, looking so concerned, as concerned as he could possibly be considering the drugs that covered him, that ran so deeply in him. Téa knew their day had been hell though. That they had been through hell. Rolon had told her everything he knew and it made her sick.

"You asked me what I needed and it is this. Come in, _mí león_. It is a nice place… it is a place to escape everything." Rico had a hold of Todd's hand. He nodded assuringly, a gentle smile on his face, slightly amused. Todd let himself be led into the bar. They walked in. Disappearing into the door. Téa looked around and then decided to go in, too. Because she couldn't help it. She needed to see more of him. She needed to FEEL him. To see how SHE would feel.

She needed to see THEM.

There were a lot of people, a DJ's music pounding. Electronic dance music. She sat at the bar and ordered a soda. She turned and looked around and after some time, she finally saw him seated in a corner, his head back against the wall behind him. Hands still shoved in his pockets. Eyes half-open, staring at the ceiling. Drifting. He must have recently dosed up. Rico was gone. She searched the floor, the sea of people looking all the same, and then she found him. Dancing. She smiled. He was so sexy, she almost laughed. He was surrounded by men. He was letting off steam, not unlike Téa. He wanted the feel of people around him, she just knew. Swaying and grinding and popping. She realized quickly it was a gay bar. Then she almost laughed again. Her husband, Todd Manning, nodding out in a gay bar. Who'd have ever thought such a thing? Then she almost cried at how out of place he was, how alone. How lost. The guilt rushed forward so strongly, she nearly fell over. The baby moved and kicked her and she could only say, "Sorry, Esperanza."

Rolon had told her what he learned of Caro. _He raped him, Téa, a child tied up and helpless in front of his father._ Rolon was sick. Sickened. Téa knew that most likely those had been the suppressed memories Tim was afraid would surface. And yes, he was right. It was putting Todd's life in danger… and the entire operation at risk. Rolon had said that Todd had fully planned on killing Pedro since Pedro essentially ran the entire pornography ring. Caro was next, no question. He had no idea of the feds' involvement and for now he needed to stay in the dark. Téa did not educate him.

_It's only a matter of time, abogada, before he kills them. He was the devil today, in that room. Only one other time did I see him close to such madness… when he tried to kill Horenda on his own in Statesville. And even that… was nothing like today._

Yes, only a matter of time. Which meant that Juarez, Ken McNair and Jed, too, that they had to wrap this thing up before Todd burned the entire city down.

Téa got up, ready to leave. Probably had been here an hour. She had seen enough. She moved slowly. Slipped out the front door. She walked in the cold. Walked many blocks because she needed the air and the space and the cold. And finally stopped walking when she hit a quiet neighborhood. Stopped walking when storm clouds made the dark darker.

Stopped walking because _he_ was behind her.

When she turned, he stood tall and heated and full of hate. The fourth year shot from Statesville. He breathed roughly. His mouth turned down and he looked at every part of her like she was meat, like she was trash. Instantly she held her belly. As if she could protect her child from his poison, from his dark wishes. Never had she felt truly in danger from him as in this moment. All her imaginations, all her fantasies, every fear she had carried paled in comparison to what she felt NOW.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Go away," he whispered.

"I can't. I am here to help you. To save you."

"Fuck you. FUCKyouFUCKyouFUCK…. YOU. There is NOTHING to save."

The tears came hard to her and he cursed her more. And he pushed her against the brick siding of the building. A knee up in between her legs, a hand around her throat. "Fuck you," he rasped, his lips parting in a near orgasmic gasp. He was holding back from strangling her. He growled like an animal. She could feel him shaking and pressed her head against him. Put her hands on his unforgiving biceps.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice thick and full of the cutting pain. "I was so afraid, I did not know what to do. I knew nothing… else. Of what to do." He was tight, the tension breathtaking. She could not move, she could not breathe. "Todd…please…" He breathed in her ear and she smelled his scent… and it was a mix of the sea, male sweat, fear and…sex.

"Fuck you… fuck you…" He pushed away from her. Let go of her like she was on fire. Stared at her as if he could kill her that way.

"How could you do that to me? HOW COULD YOU FUCKING DO THAT TO ME?! HOW?!" He slammed his hands against his chest. "I LOVED YOU! MORE than my own fucking LIFE! I would have DIED for you… WILLINGLY... had YOU ASKED ME!" He leaned forward again, her hair in his fist. He pulled her to him, breathed hot against the side of her head, "All you had to do was ASK ME to die for YOU." He whispered… "I would have let you do it. Had you asked… I would have said… fucking DO it."

Let go of her again, pushing her against the wall. Soul-deep emotion ripped through his features. His eyes, his lips. He looked at her like she was from another planet, so deeply confused by her, by what she did. By why she stood now in front of him. "You killed me, woman. In every way you could have killed me. GO HOME. I am dead. I am nothing. NOTHING!"

He started to cry, uneven breaths to stop it but it was useless. Pulled away. Walked away. He reached a hand out and had to stop. He couldn't breathe and couldn't talk and couldn't move. The pain he showed tore through Téa worse than any bullet. She mashed her hand against her mouth. She had no right to cry in front of him. She had lost her rights.

He just stood there, a hand on the wall. Holding himself up. His shoulders shook hard but no sound came from him. He slowly started taking steps. Slowly. Slowly. He lost his strength but held fast. Started his slow walk again. Disappeared around the corner. Téa couldn't move for the longest time. She had broken him to pieces. She had killed his soul. Everything she had blamed him for doing to her at one point or another had been returned. In spades.

She turned and headed to the hotel. When she walked in the door, Rolon cursed at the sight of her… "Oh SHIT. You saw him. God damn it… FUCK. Why you do something so risky?! Didn't I tell you to stay here?! Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?"

She walked to him and collapsed in his arms and cried like she had not cried in her entire life. They dropped to the floor and it was all he could do to not find that fucker and kill HIM with his bare hands for doing this to her.

"That bastard, that bastard," he groaned. 

* * *

><p>When Rico got to the room, he opened the door carefully, knowing he'd find the place empty. The windows were open and the rain fell softly. It was so cold but he did nothing to warm himself. He had seen Téa and <em>Blanco. <em>He saw how beautiful she was. He had smelled her perfume when she finally left the spot where she had been glued to after _Blanco _had ripped into her and realized that was what was probably distracting him on their way to the bar. He kept stopping and shaking his head, like he was clearing something. Her perfume.

Rico had seen them fight. No, Téa Delgado did not fight. She endured. She was a lioness to his lion. She barely flinched when in his hands… he had her twice… close enough to kill. And both times she held his glare in her eyes and did not let go. He acted the part. He broke down. As did she but she controlled it. Repressed it. She had walked away with her head high, walked into the cold with that baby in her belly. She cried as she walked, the tears rolling, her features still as glass.

Yes, yes, a lioness…. a queen.

_Rico was nothing._

_Blanco_ confused him, had been for months. Made him think he had a chance in this world to be something other than a whore. Made him forget all his notions of himself. And if hope for something lived in _Blanco_...

….it died with Téa Delgado.

_Blanco_ was so in love with her it shook the ground he stood on. That was not hate Rico saw… that was love. That was the kind of love one reads about in books. That was what wars were started for and lost over. It tore through Rico and broke his heart. Just… broke his heart. He sat on the bed in the dark for a long while. Unsure of his next breath. Unsure of himself. Of how he would live…. from now on. _Blanco _had said he loved him. The word must be easy to use for him. Or maybe… he did not understand it either.

The door opened and slammed shut. Rico smelled rain and the city streets. The bed dipped with his weight. Todd grabbed him, pulled him to his body. His clothes were soaked. Pressed Rico tight into him. "I'm sorry," he said in a hushed voice. "Can we just sleep? Please?"

Rico wrenched out his hold and Todd looked back at him in the moon's light. _Blanco _was as beautiful and dangerous and heart-stealing as ever. His woman was inside of him, his eyes full of hurt. He wasn't going to tell Rico anything. Pretend nothing as earth-shattering as seeing _her _had happened_. _Rico shook his head and moved away. Sat quietly.

"What is the matter, _mari?"_

_"You are wet to your skin."_

Rico moved to Todd's feet. He removed the boots, the socks… he crawled back up and got him to take off his jacket, then his shirt. He removed his jeans, the boxers. He studied his lion's bare body. Raw, open… Rico kissed him from the top of his feet up to his thighs. He took his arm and kissed the scars. Took the other arm and kissed those scars. He pressed his lips at last to the bullet wounds. Each kiss full of everything Rico had to give. He finally kissed Todd's lips and kissed away the tears that ran down his cheeks, tears he knew were not for him.

"What does it matter, _Blanco? What does any of this matter? We just keep breathing, yeah?"_

Rico sat up and took off his own clothes, piece by piece. The only thing he wore was the silver ring on his thumb and his Catholic medal. He unlatched the chain and put it around Todd's neck. He said, "_Santo Pacracio._ It is the patron saint of children, but mostly of teenagers. He was a martyr… died when he was fourteen."

"Fourteen?"

"Yes. The same age you were the last time your father hurt you… and for Gloria, the first time…"

"Does fourteen mean anything to you?"

"Yes, I was fourteen the first time a man had choked me near to death during sex, the first time I learned to fly…"

"Rico…"

"Don't talk… the saint is yours now. He will protect you."

He scooted down into the bedcovers, his back up against his lion, and let Todd hold him, tight, tight… both colder than the room allowed, as cold as the moon looked through the windows that opened onto _La Habana, Cuba._

As Rico gave in to sleep, he heard Todd ask,_ "Pero, quién te protegerá?"_

_But who will protect YOU?_

**To be continued...**


	50. Chapter 50

**Caged**

**Chapter 50**

Ken McNair put his hand on the screen and turned away, eyes on Jedediah who studied a text book on the other desk despite his mad hangover, obviously deciding not to totally waste time in Havana. The windows were open, the noise grounding, the cool air relieving. Ken needed that against the images he was working. And especially from what he looked at now.

Jed glanced his way, "What's the matter? You look like you seen a ghost." Ken really did look a little pale. Sick, actually. "Shit, dude," Jed murmured. "What's going on?

"_Rico_," he rasped. "Aww that poor fuckin' kid."

Jed put the book aside. "What?"

"Pictures." He clicked the monitor off, the shots still there, the _video, _under the black. He shuddered. Never in all his time working the catch-a-predator gig had he seen pictures of someone he knew, even tangentially. They were kids… but then… they were strangers. He stood up, needing a different scene. Jesus. Caro had ventured far beyond the norm into a whole other genre with Rico at the center.

"Are you sure it's him?" Jedediah swallowed. He called it already. Thought Rico would have been too beautiful a child not have been used… extensively. "I mean, people change."

Choking out the words, Ken said, "It's him. Fuckin' seven, eight years old. And that's just the start. I need air."

The door to the hotel room opened, then closed. The monitor black.

_Good morning, fuckin' Havana!_

Jed huffed, eyes on the slammed door then back to the boulevard. The morning was gorgeous, gotta hand the island that, birds singing, sun making the streets glisten. A stark difference from the storm that rolled in the previous day...as well as the storm in the skies.

_Pops…and Téa._

Gloria called after the lunch hour, saying Todd had a major battle with Pedro Moreno at a clinic in the red light district. She said… _Blanco _won't come back, he's not well, demanded space from everyone. Added, Pedro is distraught. Keeping him at the beach house to prevent further confrontation. She'd sounded stressed.

Jedediah had no idea where to find Todd. Gloria didn't offer and he didn't ask. Figured his Pops was doing a disappearing act _a la Sixteenth Street_ which always meant… stay the fuck away. When he went downstairs to get something to eat, to soothe his roiling stomach, he found _Téa _waiting for him in the lobby. It was good to see her, but at that point, a raving Rolon Lopez came tearing back from the clinic, fuming, pointing his finger at Téa and saying, "We gotta talk, _mamita_." Téa left in a shocked rush. "Gotta go," she said. Followed him to the hotel down the street. Jed stuffed his face in the hotel restaurant… _not _stunned whatsoever.

Téa then left a message later for Jed to stay put, that she'd be coming up later. Except Téa never came to him, having _also_ disappeared into the Cuban ether.

Rolon showed up at the hotel near dinner time, all screwed up at learning that MK was a goddamn child pornography empire which Jed said was a little overstated, which got them arguing the term, _empire_, and he and Jed ended up a lot drunk in the bar downstairs. Rolon then left because he said maybe Téa would be coming back and he better be in _their room... _which Jed was VERY confused over because why the FUCK was Téa sleeping in the same room as Rolon? Which could only mean one thing. At which point he drank himself into kind of a stupor because between his dad fucking a guy and his moms fucking an MK soldier, Jed was a lot fucked up, at which point a very nice _Cubana _waitress walked him to his room and to his bed, so nice in fact she stayed with him until the morning… hahaha doncha know how fast those damn waitress outfits come off and goddamn it, he was NOT going to be the only member of the Manning family in Cuba NOT fucking.

Oh yeah, Ken stayed hidden the entire time because Rolon didn't know shit about the investigation. Jed didn't think Ken was fucking anybody.

He groaned into his hands. Set his eyes on the monitor. This whole trip had him in knots. Téa had called him this a.m. and she was beat. In so many ways. But then it was clear it wasn't knocking boots with Rolon that had her bothered.

_You saw him._

_Yes. Oh Jed. I'm not sure what to do._

_What happened, Moms?_

_We followed each other. First me doing the following… then him when I left the bar he was at with Rico. He was behind me. I expected his hate, you know? I did. But then… he... he did something much worse than show he wanted to kill me. He cried. He left me and just cried... I did not expect sorrow, Jed… it is unprecedented. I am sick._

Un-fucking-precedented. Aww… Pops. Jed could deal with him being angry as hell, could handle his monster hate, but his bottomless-pit sadness was a whole other thing. Nothing got to Jed like his dad showing the hurt. But then he really wanted to ask… hey, think _Blanco_ will be less _sorrowful _if he knows you sleepin' with his best friend in MK? Moms? Whatcha think? Was shooting him not enough?

SHIT. He hated when he saw flashes of his Moms' very own brand of crazy.

Jed got up and sat in front of the monitor. Looked at the black a while. He didn't fault Téa for any of it. Life with Todd Manning made a person crazy. Try all you might and at the end of the day, you still got infected. He sighed and then turned the monitor on. His stomach flipped at the thumbnails. Pages and pages of the same dark haired boy. Horrible. There were tons of videos, too. One was open, mid-play. Must have been what Ken was watching, headphones still attached. Jed clicked on it. Jed's stomach lurched at the scene and he smacked the monitor back off. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Wished like hell he could unsee that shit. It was… terrifying. That wasn't just porn. His heart raced. Holy shit.

The door soon opened and Ken shook his head at seeing Jed at the desk chair, seeing his blanched face. He had a coke bottle in his hand, another one for Jed. "You looked."

"What the hell WAS that?"

"The darkest side of child porn..."

"You think Caro still does that?"

"Don't know. Caro is a trafficker. He finds kids, sells some off, but keeps his own stable, for lack of a better word, for the prostitution, media work. We got him on the porn distribution, on the hosting of pedophile tourists. Don't know how involved Caro was with _that _kind of film though. Or Moreno. Don't know if Caro still keeps kids or just does match-making. Your… dad… was trying to figure that out. Said he's seen where the kids were filmed but didn't see any _kids_."

They were quiet, sucking down the sodas. Jed sighed, "That was definitely Rico in that video... how's he any kind of sane, dude?"

"Survival's an amazing thing..." He paused, looked at the black monitor. "He's one of Caro's kids… like Alicia. You know, chances are he's an abductee. Might not even be Cuban."

"Shit."

A knock on the door drew them into the present. _Téa_. She gave the biggest hug to Jed, not wanting to let go of him. She smiled a little more, patting his cheeks like an old mother hen. Met Ken for the first time. Took him in. Knew he'd been in prison with Todd. She got that critical eye on him. Made small talk. Then walked to the windows, gazing on the boulevard. Eyes full of bottomless-pit sadness, too. She put her bag down on the bed, sitting at the edge. Bouncing a little as if testing it out.

"Nice," she said. "Better than mine. Feds are paying for this? Big room."

Jed looked at her like she sprouted horns. See? Crazy.

Ken nodded, amused. "Yup, this is what working for the U.S. of A. gets us."

"How much should we share with Rolon? Can we use him in dealing with Todd?"

Ken showed a shitload of shock. "Whoa, you mean bring him in? How fuckin' much do we trust him?"

She obviously trusts him a lot, Jed thought. So very much trust. He groaned aloud. Téa turned to him. "I think he's very trustworthy. He's very loyal to Todd…"

"Is he, Moms? Loyal? To my dad?"

"Yes, Jed," she said, eying him impatiently before ignoring his cryptic sarcasm.

"He tried to kill dad, remember?!"

"So did I, Jed."

Jed shut his mouth.

"He's _horrified _by the child pornography angle," she continued. "He's…anxious to do something."

Ken glanced at Jed then Téa, asking, "How long has he known about it?"

Téa's eyes were full, weighted. "Since yesterday," she said. Proceeded to tell Ken the events of the day, what Rolon told her, what he knew of the ring.

Ken whistled. "Interesting."

She took a deep breath, "Oh there's more. Apparently Manuel Caro…" She held her hand out for Jed's coke. He scrambled and gave it to her. She drank it down. And her face crinkled, sadness there, finally saying quickly as if she was reading a legal document, "Manuel Caro raped Todd when he was twelve years old. There were… repeat performances. Todd had been sold to Caro by Peter Manning."

Jed shot up to his feet, falling against the desk and croaking, "GodDAMN."

Téa looked at Jed, her eyes moistening. "I'm sorry. I wasn't going to say anything, but you're an adult and part of this." He just shook his head, closed his eyes. "You need to know what's under your father's unraveling. Besides me, that is."

Ken eyed Jed, remembering he had mentioned Todd being severely abused. This was horrible… and dangerous. And obviously par for the course. He cleared his throat. "Caro's connection with Manning isn't in any report. Juarez wouldn't have allowed him to do this."

"Todd didn't know. This is… new. Suppressed memories, most likely. Dealing with Caro… loosened them."

"Well, there goes Todd cooperating with the feds... with regard to Caro." He had already known Todd had back-stepped on turning Moreno in.

"Bingo. He wants to kill Caro and Pedro rather than turn them over to anyone. Rolon said Todd was seconds from pulling the trigger on Pedro. As in _gun_. So… we need to discuss what's going to happen with Operation Touchdown because Todd is going ... nuclear. And I can personally attest to his being… _extremely unhinged_." Her eyes wetted just slightly and she lifted her chin, working the dignity.

Ken rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Okay. Let me have a chat with Juarez. We've got Cuba's authorities on board now and they're very anxious to make arrests. But now we've got to make deals. Who's the _policia_ gonna arrest? Who's going down? We also have Canada on board and a bunch of other national forces. Everybody's waiting on Juarez… me… and Manning. We HAVE to get him in here. We HAVE to talk to him. He has shit he hasn't turned over yet."

Téa said quietly, "Problem is, he's not very talkative. Or very sane. Or sober. Or in any way in a mental space to think clearly. I certainly have no sway with him." She swallowed hard. Sighing sadly. Not wanting to think about it very much. "So maybe Rolon is the way in?"

Ken looked at his two guests, both deeply upset. "I could have him arrested."

They both said, "No!"

Tea shook her head, "Too much legal fallout that I'm not sure would be manageable."

"Rico is the way in," Jed said, his suggestion like a sudden light in a dark cave. "He's the only one who has my dad's limited respect and patience right now. Whatever sanity he has, he seems to reserve for Rico."

Téa couldn't disagree with that. He'd been very submissive for lack of a better word last night as they walked to the bar. She nodded. "Yeah, you're right. He'll do the translating."

Ken agreed. Studied Téa a moment, glancing at Jed. His expression was pretty plain...Did she know about Rico's relationship with her _husband? _The room got hugely awkward all of a sudden and Jed decided maybe he'd leave the Rico chat to Ken.

He said, "Okay, you know, I gotta get air. I'ma leave… Moms, you haven't really met Ken so you all talk. Get familiar. Get him to tell you how Pops tortured him with lit cigarettes. My brain… is out."

Téa flinched at the door slam. Ked smiled and threw the shit out there that needed to be thrown… "Cigarette story will have to wait. First thing is that Rico is Todd's lover. You aware of that?"

"Yes."

"You're taking it well."

She smiled sadly, "Todd gravitates to damaged people when he's in a bad way. Just because it's a man this time makes no difference." She paused, thoughtful.

"Ah. You been through something similar before."

"Yes. You have lit cigarettes, I have Brandy. He's still broken. Untreated for serious mental illness. And if you're worried about me being… jealous and bringing drama with regard to Rico, don't be. He's just as broken, so any contact with him will be with kid gloves. They both need understanding, not bullshit. So how do we get to Todd… and Rico?"

"Let's try Rolon."

* * *

><p>Todd felt the heat of the sun, saw light in the black of his eyes, and popped his head up. Sheets low, belly to the bed. Arm across Rico. Neither had a stitch of clothes on. He felt the chain around his neck. He took a moment, orienting himself. Not the beachhouse. Not Raquel's <em>paladar. <em>The other place. He whimpered under his breath. His hand hurt, his arm. Goddamn needles. Felt nauseous and his bowels twisted. A knife dug into his head. Goddamn heroin. He licked his lips, saliva slow in coming. He groaned, shifting his body away from Rico and drawing his knees up, The craving was hitting him bad. He hated this part: the constant need for more. He considered the works on the dresser, the steps he'd have to take to dose up, the pinch and the blood...the feeling that would come…

He rubbed his face on the sheets, the softness of them making him think of Téa. A fuckin' kick in the balls. The hell was she doing here?

_I am here to save you._

_Too late, my righteous killer._

Fuck it. He eased off the bed, grabbed the little bag off the dresser and eased himself into the corner of the room. Spent a long time prepping, eyes on dead-to-the-world Rico. Not wanting to wake him because he needed the heavy sleep. The sight of the bubbling tar in the spoon made his mouth wet and he huffed a little. He raised the needle to the light once he sucked up the liquid into the syringe barrel. Black tar wasn't his thing… fucked up the veins and syringes faster than powder. Raquel had it because it was cheap. He used the thick vein at the top of his hand. Didn't need to tie himself off. He stuck himself, saw the blood in the barrel… like riding a bike, still knew how to do it... always will...and then pressed down slowly, slow as he could make it. The dope rolled into his body. When it was all in, an easy rush of nothingness exploded like fireworks without sound. Crinkling in the black, sprinkling down inside of him. He grunted softly, his mouth open and throat closing at his own volition. Blood he knew oozed on his hand.

Every hideous picture that would not stop bashing the inside of his skull began to recede into the bright pouring in from outside. He felt the plaster behind him, cool and safe. He rolled the sharp in his fingers a little, watched it fall to the floor as his limbs lost a basic will to do what he wanted. Blood slid off his hand. His eyes narrowed, the edges of his visual plane blackening. Better, he thought, better. All the soreness disappeared. Téa disappeared. Caro and Peter disappeared. Elon and the house and child porn Skype disappeared. Jed disappeared.

_Relief_.

He watched the sky's clouds float across the blue, thinking of nothing, hearing nothing but whispers of peacefulness. His breathing lessened and he remembered vaguely that a little more would let him not breathe. Be in a place where breathing just didn't matter. Where it became optional.

It was in that space that he eventually crawled to the bed and lay once again next to his _mari. _Saw that he breathed unevenly, his eyes beneath his lids moving fast, his body twitching. Todd bet the fuckin' world this was Caro in his head. Fuck. He ran fingers down his belly… flat, skin tight on his muscles. No soft layer like a woman. Continued his light touch all the way down. All so fucking different than...

_No, no, no, no... go home, Téa, go home..._

Eyes on Rico again, twitching. Eyes moving back and forth. He was _dreaming _and deep inside, from far away, Todd knew this was a bad thing_._

Put his head close to Rico's. Said, "Hey… hey, _wake up._" He shook him a little, non-committed to the shake because his high made him not _feel_ anything, but Rico wasn't having it. Instead, he started to fight, making tight fists, his breathing faster, harder. Todd backed off a little, trying to grab those swinging arms, strong arms, real strength that Todd knew kinda well. "Rico…," he grunted, finally grabbing him firmly and bringing him up against his chest, holding him from behind, tight, tight, holding his arms, crossing them.

"Wake up," he murmured into his ear, "It's just a dream... Rico... shit, shit."

Rico was fighting hard with his whole body and whoever he was fighting had a solid grip on his mind. So solid, Todd found himself digging his heels into the mattress to keep hold of Rico so he wouldn't hurt him or himself. When Todd thought he'd just roll away and let the kid battle it out, Rico woke up, the fight suddenly ending.

Breathing hard, eyes bounced everywhere, he craned his neck back against Todd and burst into hard, wracking sobs, his normally deep melodic voice choked, strangled. Todd kept his hold on him, his head tight against Rico's, saying over and over, "It's okay…" Knowing it was useless. Dreams were real and there was no okay, never would be okay. After a good three or four minutes, Rico finally quieted and gasped quietly and just stared out the window. Stared at nothing as his breathing normalized. Todd didn't let go of him, wouldn't let go. He knew too intimately the importance of it.

After a long while, Todd resting against the pillows, drifting once again, Rico cleared his throat. Turned a little. Whispered, "_Una pesadilla._"

A nightmare.

Todd mumbled, "Caro?"

Didn't answer. Rico turned more, seeing his lion in a full heroin high. He got angry. In Spanish, he hissed, "_I need to piss."_

Todd let go easily, letting his head loll back. A bus honking outside got his attention and when he opened his eyes more, he saw Rico. He stood in the light, naked as the day he was born. Eyes back on Todd, a fierce look on his face. For a guy, Rico was… really… fucking… beautiful. His muscles were defined, nothing to sneeze at, chest, abs, legs, arms… yeah. Even THAT was good-looking, yeah? Like a statue in a museum. Rationality broke through his high. That was an American thing. _Circumcision_. Unusual for a Cuban national. Todd got a bit squeamish at his alien observation. What was he doing? What was this? He looked at his own fucked-up body. Heard Rico again.

"You used the needle again. You are supposed to wait."

Rubbing his face, Todd fell back on the pillows. Hand up, watching it as it turned. Studied the veins. Eyed the map down his arm into the scars and color. Hand falling back to earth. He lay there, body spread. Staring blankly. The crazy floated just beyond where he could see it or hear it. Or anything else for that matter. What was Rico's dream about, he wondered as his own played in the distance. Watched shit unfold like a children's pop-up book. The only way to look at it, from this far. He saw _her, _too.

Téa bent to look at him and he knew she was a ghost. He reached for her and touched the damage on her neck he did. He wanted to kill her last night. The bones would have broken easily and she seemed to know that, there against the brick. The fuck was she doing here? Oh yeah. _Saving him_. He moaned softly into the air. The bullet wounds fired up, but just an echo of them.

Her perfume had been haunting him all the way to the bar. Thought the heroin maybe played with his mind. But then he saw her sitting at the bar. He might not have recognized her. Hair hanging loose, body wrapped up in some grey coat he'd never seen before. But she turned towards him and he saw her face. He turned away, hoping she hadn't noticed he'd seen her. The sight electrified him, a real physical shock. Everything inside of him turned upside down and when she got up to leave, he got up. Rico had called him but Todd couldn't respond, just following her like a drone on remote.

_Why are you here. Why did you come. _

_To save you._

_It's too late to save me, mí amor._

He had no idea how long he'd been lying like that on the bed. He felt it move with Rico's weight. An ice cube on his lips. "You need to drink, _mí león_," he heard. Eyes fluttered open, the late afternoon here already. Rico smelled good again. Showered, jeans only. Hair hanging damp. He licked the melting ice cube on his lips. The high had faded somewhat, leaving him quiet inside.

"What did you dream about, _mari?"_

Rico's eyes glazed at the question, licking the ice and then putting it again on Todd's lips. The water ran into his beard. He stuck out his tongue again, his hand pressing Rico's hand. Pressing the ice into his mouth, further.

"Tell me," he whispered.

Rico ran the ice cube down Todd's chest, circling his nipples. "A movie. I was in it." Todd sucked in his stomach at the cold ice on his belly, a sensitive spot. Eyes on Rico's. Haunted eyes. He knew they both had the same cursed look.

"A movie for Caro?"

"I don't know. I was borrowed for the day. Caro told me I would be back at night but he and I would get a lot of money for my work. I wanted to buy a toy, a plastic camera? Not a camera but it had pictures in it you could see of the United States. Click, New York. Click. Hollywood." He pushed himself away from Todd, as if he couldn't talk and touch at the same time. He stared absently at the ink on Todd's chest and spoke like he was still in the dream. This wasn't just a dream. This… was his real hell.

"There was strange things in the house," Rico said. "Purple on the windows. Like paint. Chickens ran around. A cat. Men and women. I saw the camera going. A girl was tied to a table? She was older than me. In my dream she looks like the girl you saved. I was eight. I think." He held Todd's gaze. Quiet. He didn't blink. The ice cube had gotten small and he fed it into Todd's mouth. It disappeared fast.

"They made me do things with the girl on the table," he said. "It was difficult. I didn't know what they wanted. They screamed. Someone held me. They stabbed her. _Había tanta sangre. _They pushed her off the table. They all did things to me on the blood. I saw her open eyes. That is what I dream about. The blood. Do you know how slippery blood is?" He furrowed his brows. Said, "I never got my toy."

There was nothing to say. The hate was far away but it fired through heroin's haze and distance and lit him up like _fucking _Christmas. He so needed to kill Caro. And Pedro. _Ohhhh…_.he groaned with the feel of it… Todd reached for Rico but he pulled away. Eyes dark and afraid. He shook his head.

"No, _Blanco, _I see it on you. I don't want them dead. I want the whole thing brought down."

"Jesus fucking CHRIST! We'll do BOTH. We'll kill them AND get all those other motherfuckers in jail!"

Rico just shook his head, still lost in his dream. Todd threw himself back on the pillows. "They made a snuff film with you in it. Jesus, Rico. It could have been you getting killed on that table. How many more films did Caro make like that? How many other kids did he fucking KILL?" He groaned quietly in his hands, his whole body shaking. Slammed eyes on Rico. An idea. He needed to work it out. An idea. Yeah. Yeah. He had an idea. He was shaking with breakthrough rage, a riptide beneath calm.

He kept his eyes on Rico. Could see he was all wrong in his head. As THERE as Todd had seen. Disconnected. Staring. Well, no fucking shit. Ladies talking beneath their window in Spanish kept them quiet. A bird landed right outside and they both watched the thing tap along the ledge before flying away.

Soon Rico murmured, "If I asked you to put the needle to me, would you?"

"Fuck no."

"Why?"

"It's dangerous," he answered, knowing the wild hypocrisy.

"And?"

"I don't want you dead. It's why I don't want you doing that shit you do with scarves or belts… or whatever."

Rico moved close to him, looking into his pinned eyes. "Do you know why I kiss your scars when we fuck?"

Todd got silent. Shook his head, the barest of movements.

"Because your body is sacred… and your history needs to be treated with respect and… _love. _I kiss the scars because I am telling the gods that you are better than what they gave you. I always want you to feel safe, to know I would not hurt you._" _ Rico raised a hand and put it on Todd's cheek, holding it there. He kissed him. Soft, gentle…"You do the same to me," he said. "You touch me carefully. I saw how hard it was to choke me." He chuckled, his face profoundly sad, though. "I know you liked it at some point and I can see you are thinking about that now, but… it was not easy to begin. Why is it hard to hurt me? You did it easily to Gloria… but…with me, it is very different. Why?"

Todd was entranced, his eyes on Rico's. He had no answer. He knew it was true. He shrugged. "I don't know. I can't."

"I think… you see yourself in me. We are both men. We have experiences that are the same. You do not want me to think you are Caro. Because you cannot BE THAT… because if you are THAT, then you are experiencing it again. With women, you don't think of Caro. With a man, you do. Being Caro yesterday hurt so much. We both were raped again. So… if I am you… and you are me… and heroin is so dangerous, then how can you shoot up? It hurts me."

Todd was quiet for a long minute, trying to wrap his drug-infused mind around Rico's serpentine argument. He understood that shooting heroin into himself… was like shooting it into Rico and he just got done saying he'd never do it. Yeah, whatever. All he got was hopelessness. "_Mari… _I cannot see those pictures in my head, I cannot feel this crazy… I will hurt somebody. I will hurt myself. Without the dope, I think I will die."

"You will not die without it. Your whole family is here, your son... and your _wife_. _She _is here for you." Rico's eyes watered and Todd suddenly understood what was wrong with him last night… Rico had seen Téa... and suddenly Rico wrapped his arms around his lion, whispering, "You will not die without the heroin. You will hurt… but you will not die. I won't let you. I know how to... _not die _when terrible things are in front of me_._"

Rico kissed Todd's neck where the bite still burned, he kissed his lips, his eyes, he kissed his chest, his stomach, back up to his shoulder, his mouth again. He said, "You will not die." He kissed him hard, holding his head tight in his hands. "You will not die… you will not die."

The pain blossomed wildly inside of Todd, deep and real and all-consuming, cutting right through the heroin. He tipped his head back against the cool of the sheets, gasping at the boundless hurt. Through it he heard Téa's sorry, heard his own sorry to everyone he came across, and Pedro's sorry, the ridiculousness of the word. The stupidity. Its profound emptiness. There was no sorry possible for all the shit that happened before. To both of them.

Rico climbed on him, strong hands on him, warm lips to skin, overpowering him, consuming him.

A kind of love.

To add to all the other kinds of love floating next to the crazy. From the love of his children opening their eyes in the morning to his, to the love of Téa when it was good and real and safe, to the blind mad love of Brandy, to Pedro's corrupted fatherly love, to the love of his MK family, to his doctor's love and Viki's, to the strange desperate love of Jackson… and Kenny… and _this_.

Fucking… shit.

He grabbed Rico and kissed him back, rolling over him, doing his own consumption. He yanked the jeans down and off and touched him all over, touching, touching. Giving the heat right back. Kissing the scars that didn't show on Rico's skin. He pressed a hand on his ass to squeeze him up against his body, to get as close as he could get, needing to get closer, treating him gently, respectfully…

...losing himself in it.

...forgetting everything in it.

Trying so hard to get Rico to forget.

_Not dying._

Except... as he moved with Rico in the afternoon's fading light, as they breathed hard in the chilled air, as his high further loosened its grip on his brain, an answer came to him on the problem with LOVE.

He didn't _trust _it anymore. It had turned on him in the form of two bullets. Missed his heart by centimeters. He had the foggiest memory of RJ on him on the kitchen floor, eyes right on RJ's. He was dying and remembered looking at those brown eyes and understanding that RJ was trying desperately to save his life and that Téa would probably marry him after but that… RJ maybe should rethink that shit.

_She'll kill you too, buddy._

He was pretty sure that's when he coughed his lungs out and those brown eyes shut from all the blood on his face. All went black. Yeah, she killed him, sure as shit.

Love killed him.

Heroin though, was a whole different matter. He _trusted_ heroin. He knew exactly how far she'd go, how hard he could push her. He knew that no matter what he was doing with his life, heroin would welcome him with open arms. He knew what would happen when he took her in. The ups… the downs… and of course, he knew how he'd feel when he left her.

Yeah… he trusted heroin… _infinitely_.

He held Rico and watched him move, slow and agonizing. They would not let go. Holding each other's intense gaze, just the same as their mashed bodies and limbs. Neither wanted to come yet. Like the end would throw them into hell again and they didn't want to go there but then they couldn't hold out any more and the end just took them. What else could they do, yeah?

The end _always_ comes.

* * *

><p>Outside the bedroom door in the <em>casita,<em> Rolon was about to knock because Téa asked him to. Talk to him, she said. Help him understand that the best move is to turn Caro and Moreno over to the authorities. Let's bring in the cavalry to tear down the pornography ring. Take your upset, Rolon, and do something with it other than more heartache, more death. Talk to him with kid gloves. He is fragile, he is barely hanging on.

Yeah, she didn't have to tell HIM that. Yesterday wrecked him. Got drunk with Jedediah and then went to the hotel to a destroyed Téa. The Mad King sprawled in the background of everything. Larger than life. They ended up in bed all night. He was driven to comfort her… and it was fucking with his head. He was sorrowful for his friend, but then hated him for punishing Téa for what she did. He deserved those goddamn bullets. Come on! Get real! Yeah… Rolon walked a razor's edge in between worlds these days.

He was about to knock, but then… he heard something. He leaned forward, put an ear to the door… and jumped the hell back.

"_Madre de dios!_" he huffed, hitting the wall behind him. "Oh shit, oh shit, _Blanco, _you _maricon _son of a bitch." That FUCKER… punishing Téa, then THIS? No, no, no. He shook with total stomach-grinding _upset. _He turned at hearing laughter.

Raquel cackled down the hall, a hearty laugh at the macho man at _Blanco's_ door. She was kicking back on a chair by an open window, cigarette in her hand. Blowing white smoke out into the breeze.

"_Are they making love, soldier?"_

Rolon growled, "_Is that what you call it, old woman?"_

She laughed again. She had come to _la casa _because her cousin, Sylvia, called her, worried that the men were not responding to knocks on the door. Heroin was tricky medicine especially if being used by a long-time junkie. She'd peeked inside the room using the skeleton key. They were sleeping, normal. _Blanco _paid in American dollars for the whole house. No other guests so the whole house seemed asleep.

Rico had been on his back, arms flung upwards, face to the window. _Blanco _was next to him on his belly, an arm across Rico's chest, head tucked low beneath Rico's arm. Feet off the bottom of the bed. The blankets were low, the two completely undressed. She never pegged _Blanco _for being like Rico. At all. He had a woman in his life. One who he very much loved, who rather caused him terrible grief. He never told her directly but little things he said made it very clear. The woman was either dead… or missing… or had rejected him.

Whatever happened, the break was serious enough to drive him to a more primal connection. She worried though for Rico. He'd never had any relationship before and she did not believe _Blanco _would stay with the boy. Decided to wait a while to have a chat on his heroin use. When Rico emerged first instead of _Blanco, _she thought to talk to him, but he just walked past her, dreamy, a dark expression, jeans in hand, a loose towel around his narrow hips. Like a ghost. She left him alone, more sure on staying.

"_Stop the mockery_," Rolon grumbled, heading towards her.

She smiled, then didn't. "_Who is mocking? Your friend's life is being saved. For today. Be thankful for every breath they both take."_

"_Well, they're taking a lot of breaths in there, that's for sure. Coño!_"

He knew there was no coincidence in her use of Todd's own words to Pedro: _be thankful for every breath you take._ She had most likely heard everything at the clinic, and most likely understood a lot more English than she let on. He sat on a chair next to Raquel. She handed him a cigarette and he declined.

She said, "_But it might be a while."_

He groaned and she laughed quietly. He took the cigarette. Shook his head. Lighting up.

_"How did you find him here?"_

_"Your people are easily bribed, mama."_

_"Are they?"_

She smiled, puffing thoughtfully, and he realized he'd been sent here. Expected to come. Jesus he was a chump. Fooled into giving up money. He grumbled, Raquel's words hitting home though. He had come to Cuba to save his friend. He brought Tea to help do that. But yesterday proved the task would not be easy. Today proved it. No, it was going to be downright harrowing. With one thin string keeping his friend on this side of death's door: a goddamn male whore.

Shit.

* * *

><p>Rico sat on the bed, Todd's arm on his lap. He carefully traced the old track marks, the deep scars on his lion's forearms. The ink. They were both spent. Too much pain, truth, knowledge, and too much desperate heart-wrenching sex. Hungry, too. At least Rico was. Todd didn't eat when he was using.<p>

_"How long did you use needles?"_

_"Long enough to fuck up the rest of my life."_

_"Are you afraid of it?"_

"Yes...but..." He shuddered, spying the works screaming on the dresser. He almost whimpered at the hold it had on him. Knowing in a few hours he'd be physically weeping to have it again. But he did feel _resistance_. There was only one thing at the bottom of the rabbit hole… and that was an assured death. What did Dr. Graham tell him?_ Heroin addiction is fatal… your prognosis is poor. _But he needed it. He _trusted_ it. How else was he going to deal with the crazy. Go home? Get in a hospital? The thought of Llanview made him want to cry. His children waited at his house's door and their faces tore at him. He pulled himself off the bed. Put his rain-washed jeans on from yesterday. Nothing underneath. Saw Rico suppress a grin and roll over onto his belly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Fuck you, then."

"I like to see your shit, _mí león_." Muffled.

Todd looked down, saw the jeans rode low, hair visible. He shook his head, left it. Téa liked it, too. He felt the medal, his heart suddenly hurting. Fuck. Took a last view of Rico now lying across the messed up bed. Resisted a compulsion to throw himself on top of him. Shook himself of the insanity. Fuck. Yeah, that picture proved he'd lost his mind… _entirely_. He so needed to stay high.

He grabbed his bag, heading to the john. He opened the door and turned. The door swinging shut. Stopped in his tracks at seeing Rolon. Raquel casually looked, continued her smoke.

He slowly sauntered towards them, an ugly scowl on his mug. He dropped the bag. Hissed essentially, in Spanish, _"The fuck you want?_

"I wanted to talk sense into you," Rolon said, getting to his feet, slowly making his way to Todd. He was suddenly and keenly reminded of Téa's hurt. How _Blanco _had grabbed her by the throat and pushed her against the wall, no thought to her pregnancy. Kid gloves... out the window. "But I got here... and you were fucking the shit out of your plaything, so I'm fuckin' waiting here for you to finish and...How long it take you, bitch?!"

Todd suddenly laughed, a real hard laugh, eyes laughing too. "You were outside my door? Waiting for me to _come_?" They both knew at his last word… that he wasn't _actually _laughing. His tone shifted hard end-sentence to extreme pissed-off-ness. The Mad King was AWAKE and Rolon tried to backpedal.

"Look, _Blanco-_"

Todd got close, bit out, "You shoulda joined in..._bitch_. I'd have been happy to _show_ you... how long it take to shoot my load into YOUR_ fuckin' mouth_." He shoved Rolon hard. Hands like goddamn iron. Christ! He got pushed two, three more times, until Rolon finally pushed back, shouted, "ENOUGH! I get it! I'm sorry, _hermano_!"

Knew Rico was off limits. Beyond off limits. Téa said kid gloves. Shit. Kid gloves easily rolled off in the face of _El Diablo Blanco, _fragility easily forgotten. _Blanco_ stood there glaring, breathing like a bull, still crazy as all get out. Rolon worked to calm himself, trying to pull on those gloves.

"I want to talk," Rolon said. "About everything. Yesterday. Tomorrow. I'm here to fix shit, to get you on your feet. I know things have been bad, that Téa-"

The rest of the sentence got cut off by Todd's hand on his throat, Rolon smashed hard against the wall, Todd hissing, "Don't... _fucking_... say her name."

Raquel eyed him. Ah. And there she is. _La Mujer de Blanco. Téa. _

Rolon had his hands on Todd's hard-as-nails arms, "_Tranquilo, Blanco! _I am not here to fight you or..._." _His friend was beyond wound up tight. He wasn't high enough, he wasn't fucked enough. Yeah, still wildly unhinged. Rolon sighed heavily, gentling his grip, wishing _Blanco_ would gentle HIS grip. "Please...let's talk. Come on..."

After a moment of tense consideration, an unreadable look came over Todd. He leaned in a little, like he was resting. Head on Rolon, he breathed in the space, then let go, and not an easy… letting go. Rolon backed up a step, he had to. That was some major hate he was looking at.

"_Hermano."_

"I don't want to talk," Todd growled. "You need to go away."

"Why are you angry at me?"

"You are protecting Pedro." He looked too hard at Rolon, dark shadows in those light eyes. His breath was coming in heavy. Getting faster with every word. "Among other things."

"I am NOT protecting him... And what other things?"

Todd dropped down to his bag, opened it up. Rico came out the room, walking down the hall, jeans on, a hastily gotten t-shirt. He moved like a gazelle… and Raquel smiled at the sight of him. Todd turned to look at him, "Not now, _mari."_

"_Talk to him. Hear what he has to say. I have a feeling he will say the same thing I do."_

Todd turned back to Rolon, chuckled. When he stood up, that gun was in his hand. Raquel stood up. Rolon's eyes shot open.

"The hell…?"

"_Why should I talk to him, mari? He has her perfume all over him. How do I talk to a man... who is fucking the woman who tried to kill me? Who is still my wife, who will always be MY WIFE."_

Raquel tossed her cigarette. And there was the break so bad that it had driven such a man as _Blanco _so far away from home, to such a primal state that he would burrow in the body of such a man as Rico. Téa shot him, his wife. And now this? She then asked the stunned silent Rolon, "_Aiii, soldier...what have you done?"_

Rolon said low, "What are you talking about, _Blanco?"_

"She gets real wet when you fuck her from behind. Try THAT, bitch."

With no warning, Todd flipped the gun in his hand and using that weight, slammed Rolon into the tomorrow he wanted to talk about. One hit to the side of the head. Lights OUT. The hulking man fell like a stone on the fine hardwood floor of the quiet, quaint _casita_.

Raquel lit another cigarette. Rico winced at the sight of the fallen soldier. Todd hawked noisily and spit on Rolon's unresponsive face with a resounding, "Fuck you."

He picked up his bag and dropped the gun back inside. He pointed at Rico and through gritted teeth, rasped, "Explosives… that's what I want."

"Why?"

He hit his chest like the savage he was, a man with a plan, a man full of choking hate, "Retribution, Rico… fuckin' RETRIBUTION!"

Through slit blurred eyes, Rolon saw the Mad Mad King… and knew… he was going to set the world on fire.

**THE END**

**To be continued in "Caged: Retribution"**


End file.
